Storybrooke's Tale of Beauty and the Beast
by Teddy'sTwin
Summary: Henry discovers a girl in a basement of the hospital that sends Mr. Gold's world reeling. He's lived without her for so long, and now she's alive. Alive, despite what he'd been told. Now what will happen as he tries to win her back? (Now very AU)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Alright, I know I'm writing another fic for Rumpelle at this moment, A Tale As Old As Time, but I don't know how long I can wait for the next Belle and Rumpelstiltskin episode, or how long I can wait for Belle to get out of that institution, so, I had to write this. I know I'll be working on two fics at once, but guys, I promise you, I'll keep up with both of them. I just couldn't resist! Once Upon A Time will be the death of me, I'm sure. **

**ANYways, I invite you to relax, let you pull up a chair, as I proudly present my story! I really do hope you like it. **

Chapter 1

~: Henry :~

"I'm fine," Henry told her for the fourteenth time. "I don't need to go on the hospital."

"Get out of the car, Henry," Regina spat, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. She was angry. He was kind of worried she would get mad and blame Miss Blanchard for it, but it didn't have anything to do with her. She'd been the one that had called Regina out to get him from school.

Henry grimaced, and opened the car door, slinging his book bag across his back, where the Evil Queen escorted him through the main hospital doors. He made a face at clerk when she asked his adopted mother what had happened.

"He hit his head on a monkey bar at recess," Regina's voice was irritated, "Can we check for a concussion?"

The clerk nodded, "That's a nasty bruise there. We'll see what Doctor Whale has to say about it," the clerk said, and gave Regina a clipboard. Henry sighed, and sat down next to her. The last time he'd been to the hospital was when Prince Charming woke up. He fidgeted impatiently as Regina scrawled things out on the clipboard. Name, birth date, his allergies, how he'd gotten his injury everything like that.

She signed the signature at the bottom, Regina Mills, and then told him to stay put, "I'll be right back," she told him.

He would stay put then. What was there to do in a hospital? All he really wanted to do was go see his real mom, and talk about Operation: Cobra, but that would get Emma into trouble.

He watched absentmindedly as she turned in the clipboard to the clerk, and then as her high heels clicked on the way to a door he'd never paid much attention to before that read the word "Exit." His interest was piqued as he typed in a number. 10, 23, 11.

He tilted his head as his adopted mom checked to make sure if anyone was watching. He pretended to be interested in the painting next to him. When he looked back she was disappearing through the mysterious door. What was in that door? He stood up abruptly, and, looking around at the busy room, ran over to the door just as it began to swing shut. He caught it just in time with his foot.

There were stairs. Dark stairs. Stairs that lead down into a yellow, dank basement.

Operation: Cobra had never been more exciting. He dove down the stairs as he heard Regina ask, "Any visitors today?" He saw her from behind, staying just out of sight, only seeing her shoes.

There was a new voice. "No ma'am. Not once, not ever. You know that," the new voice sounded irritated.

"Well, how has she been?" Regina sounded annoyed.

"She ate today, and she's been taking her pills regularly. There's nothing the matter with her," the other voice, a woman's voice huffed.

"Will you show me her?" Regina asked.

"Are you going to – encourage her today?" the woman asked, and her voice was somehow excited.

"No, no, I just want to see her," Regina said firmly.

"Alright," the woman sounded disappointed, "This way ma'am."

He heard Regina's heels click away, and he crept as quietly as he could down the stairs. The Evil Queen was holding someone captive?

He got a glimpse down the hallway to see his adoptive mom and the lady disappear around a corner, and a large, bulky man scrubbing away at the floors. Henry's eyes widened. The Evil Queen had an ogre guarding the captive? This was more serious than he realized.

He gathered his courage. He was going to look on the desk for clues. If he was spotted by the ogre he was toast for sure, but if he moved quickly enough- he darted across the way to reach the desk just as he heard the nurse say, "Oh, I forgot the keys."

"Then hurry and go get them," the Mayor sounded irritable, "I don't have a lot of time."

Henry saw the keys she was talking about on a hook next to the desk. He leapt under the desk just as the nurse walked into view. She grabbed the keys, and headed back the way she had come.

Henry panted, looking up at the large medication cabinet, full of syringes and bottles. He gulped, and moved to look at the filing cabinet, one partially open with a file sticking out of it. He grabbed the file, and peered inside. There was a picture of a girl there, with bright blue eyes. The file read "Isabelle Marie French – Room Number 014." She was pretty, with a small smile around her mouth.

"Thank you," he heard Regina say.

Henry blanched, looking around him frantically. The only way to escape was up those stairs. He took the file, and closed the drawer quickly. Without even looking he bolted for the stairs, stumbled up them as fast as he could, his back pack bouncing around until he reached the door.

"Anytime," he heard the nurse say frostily as he closed the door gently after him.

When Regina came out of the door he was sitting right where she'd left him, doodling on a note pad. She looked at him suspiciously. He was too serene. He looked up at her just as Doctor Whale stepped towards her, catching the Mayor's attention. Henry took the opportunity to stuff the file into his back pack from where he'd been sitting on it.

He had to talk to Emma.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: GUYS! She's coming back March 4****th****! Belle is! I seriously cannot wait- I feel bad, but I really would rather have more on Belle and Rumpelstiltskin then Mary Margret and David. … is that truly terrible? **

**Anyways, since this will prolly be AU soon (and I don't mind that for a second), I thought I had better finish it quickly. Expect an update tomorrow! **

Chapter 2

~: Mr. Gold :~

Mr. Gold sat resting his leg in his shop. The late afternoon was sinking into twilight just as a chime clinked. He looked up to find the Sheriff walking into his shop, holding paperwork.

"Ah, Sheriff Swan," he said, standing. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Your court date," she said dryly, dropping the paperwork on his desk.

"Thank you for the lovely reminder," he remarked, taking the papers off his desk. He was done with her. It had been a long day. He was tired. He was waiting for the store to close so he could leave for the day and go home to another sleepless night. When she hesitated, he asked, "Is there anything else you need, Ms. Swan?"

"Yes, actually," she stepped forward. "I'm curious about something."

"And what would that be?" he inquired.

"I talked to Mr. French."

Mr. Gold's jaw went immediately rigid.

She leaned against the counter, hands folding in front of her. "He told me that he had a daughter."

"You sure know how to dig up past problems, Ms. Swan," Mr. Gold ground out, steel in his voice. He did not want to bring up this subject now. "I don't think I can answer your questions anymore today, so if you'll excuse me." He gestured for her to leave.

She ignored him, "She was institutionalized a while back?" she leaned farther forward, staring intently at his face.

Mr. Gold didn't meet her piercing gaze, glowering away at a corner of his cluttered shop. This nosy law officer was going too far this time.

"Do you know what happened to her, Mr. Gold?"

He closed his eyes. He knew all too well what had happened to her. "She died, Ms. Swan. She died," his voice cracked, and immediately hardened again, "Now would you please leave?"

The door chimed again. "Emma!"

"Kid," the Sheriff turned to face the little prince who ran into the shop.

"I saw your car outside. I have to talk to you," he tugged on Emma's jacket.

"Kid what are you doing here?" she looked back at Mr. Gold, who was more grateful for the distraction then he would ever admit. "What happened to your forehead?" her voice turned to concern as she brushed his hair away to reveal a large goose egg.

"I got it playing around at recess," he said dismissively, moving back to the obviously more important topic he'd escaped his adoptive mother to tell Emma about, "This is serious! It's about Operation Cobra!" he insisted.

"Alright, alright, what're you on about?" she smiled affectionately at him. He remembered with a pang what it was to smile at one's own child. Mr. Gold immediately took up being interested in another corner of his shop, pretending to not listen.

"The Evil Queen is keeping captives in the basement of the hospital!" Henry whispered loudly up at the Sheriff.

Mr. Gold's ears pricked up. Madam Mayor had been sloppy recently. She'd let Henry discover a secret? Something he could hold over her wicked, deceitful head? He was already furious that he was in trouble with the law due to her interference, and that she now knew he remembered everything as well as he did. He thought that her Majesty could stand for a little pay back.

"What?" Emma asked, sounding almost as curious as Mr. Gold felt, crouching down next to him.

"There are people in the hospital that Regina doesn't want found," Henry repeated excitedly, "There's an ogre guarding the entrance and everything!" Mr. Gold blinked in surprise. An, ogre? Guarding the entrance? The little prince might on to something, he thought, still pretending not to overhear their conversation. What would Regina need an ogre to hide?

"Kid, kid, I don't think there is a basement in that hospital," the Sheriff tried to calm him down, "I've looked at the floor plans, remember? When David went missing?"

"I know, because it's secret! Look!" the boy was dragging off his back pack, grabbing a little bit crinkled manila folder out of it. "I grabbed this down there." He handed it to her.

"What is this?" Ms. Swan asked him sternly, taking the file from him and opening it.

"It's a file- it's for a captive down there," the boy continued, "I found it in the nurse's desk! We need to save her!" The boy was heroic, just as his child had been. Did youth never consider self preservation?

"Henry, we need to take this back," the Sheriff said seriously, standing up.

"But!" he looked at her with betrayal in his eyes, "Don't you believe me?"

"Of course I do," she said, offering him her hand, which he promptly took, "That's why we have to go investigate," Emma grinned conspiratorially at Henry, who grinned back.

"See you later, Mr. Gold," Henry called, and the Sheriff nodded at him as the pair of them left out his front door, the bell chiming their absence.

"Good luck to the both of you," he smiled as the door swung shut. Whatever was down there, the Sheriff and her son were going to go stir up trouble. All that Ms. Swan had done the entire time she had been in Storybrooke was stir up trouble for her Majesty the Queen, and Mr. Gold could not particularly find it in himself to complain. He grinned maliciously, touching his fingertips together and wondered what would happen this time.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you guys for loving this story! You all are fantastic! I hope to hear more from you soon! **

Chapter 3

~: Emma :~

She was scanning the bio Henry had retrieved from whatever basement he had found stalking the Mayor.

The girl's name was Isabelle Marie French- the girl Mr. Gold had just told her was dead, and what Mr. French himself had confirmed before him. But it said here that she was very much alive, and on a lot of medication for no apparent reason. It said that she had self-destructive behavior, and that she was there for "her own good."

She scowled at that. The Mayor was known for her ability to maneuver to get her way in all things. Emma wondered what the Frenches had done to deserve this, what Mr. French had done to deserve a lie about his own daughter's death- or it just was her being absolutely and ridiculously paranoid. Maybe the girl really was crazy. Maybe the file was wrong and the girl really was dead. She was just going to go check it out, and see what was up. She was the Sheriff after all. She needed to know her town, her entire town, backwards and forwards in order to keep the peace effectively.

"Geez, this girl should be sick with all the stuff their making her take," Emma grimaced, relooking at the list of pills, syrups and injections they gave her regularly.

"I bet it's to make her forget," Henry shrugged.

"Forget what?"

"Forget about the Happily Ever After place," Henry spoke nonchalantly, and Emma bit her lip. The kid really believed that this girl was some captive. She didn't want to get his hopes up when the girl could be just stark raving mad and not a princess in disguise, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything.

She remembered a conversation she'd had with Gold a few weeks ago about a girl, remembered his reaction was about more than taking a few trinkets. He'd said something about Moe French hurting "her", wondering what happened to "her". She had wondered who she'd been, what Mr. French had done, assuring Mr. Gold that if someone needed help, she could help, but now she couldn't help but wonder herself if Isabelle French was this "her."

They walked through the hospital doors as twilight began to fade into true night. Henry was bursting with excitement. He turned down a corridor, and led her along to the clerk's desk, before walking up to a door that read "Exit."

"Henry," Emma said uncertainly.

He punched in a string of numbers, and the little light went from red, to green. He opened the door, and started down the stairs, pausing briefly to give her an, "are you coming?" look.

Against her better judgment, she followed the kid down the steps.

"Who are you?" she heard a voice ask Henry sharply. Emma was immediately defensive, hurrying down the steps to see what was going on.

"I'm Henry," he answered cordially. "I've brought the Sheriff to investigate."

Emma closed her eyes, regretting going along with this. Taking the last few steps down, she looked to see a nurse, standing up from behind her desk, looking like a dragon ready to breathe flames.

"Investigate what?" the nurse demanded harshly, "How did you get down here?"

"I'm sorry to intrude," Emma said, holding up Isabelle's folder. "We came down here to see if you had a patient here, by the name of Isabelle French?" The nurse's eyes froze over at the name. It seemed Emma had struck a chord, "You see, I was told she was dead."

"She is dead," the nurse snapped.

"That's not what your file says here," Emma said, her own eyes turning cold as she realized the nurse was lying to her. "I'm going to need to see her."

She flicked her eyes from her to Henry. "Why?"

"Because you're lying to me," Emma's pointed gaze bored into the nurse's dark eyes. They were panicked, angry that she'd been caught in her lie.

"No one sees patients without the express permission of Doctor Whale or the Mayor," the nurse told her curtly.

"Well, you see, I'm the sheriff now," Emma explained smoothly, "And I'm sure you wouldn't want to be locked up for withholding evidence from my investigation." When Regina showed up this was going to be a nightmare to try and explain, but for now she had to get to the bottom of this. Besides, if Mr. Gold and Mr. French had been feuding because of Mr. French's daughter, she wanted to get a look at the girl.

The nurse was obviously seething, her gaze darting back and forth between Emma and Henry. And then the nurse's hand shot out, snatching the phone on her desk. Emma at that exact same moment slammed her hand down over the nurse's. She didn't need Regina there any faster than was necessary. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"I'll get her out!" Henry exclaimed, snatching keys from a hook, dashing down the hall way and lunging out of sight.

"Henry!" Emma yelled after him in panic. What had she done now?

~: Henry :~

There was no sign of the ogre yet as he booked it down the hallway, leaping over a janitorial sign and skidding to a stop in front of room 014. Henry drew the keys up and began sorting quickly through the keys for one that had a 14 engraved on it. When he finally found it, he jangled to unlock it, hearing his mom call out his name again.

The door's lock popped, but it was almost too heavy to push the rest of the way open.

Finally, when he pushed it completely out of the way, he peered into the darkness, past his shadow that stood in the square of eerie light on the floor, and saw the woman, unraveling herself from a ball. In the darkness it was hard to see, but the surprise on her face was clear, and he recognized her immediately. It was the young woman from the picture in the file, but her hair was mussed, and she was a few years older, and she had dark rims around her dim blue eyes. She looked at him in bewilderment.

"You're Isabelle," Henry said triumphantly, taking her in, "My name is Henry. I'm here to bust you out."

Isabelle stared back at him in utter silence.

"Come on, before the Evil Queen comes!" he urged her.

"Evil Queen?" she asked, half dazed.

"Take my hand," he said, holding it out to her.

Her bare feet touched the floor, a trusting look across her face.

"Henry? Where are you?" Emma's voice was a panicked question. He looked back into the hallway, but there was no sign of her. He didn't want to worry her, but they were almost home free.

"How do we escape?" Isabelle took Henry's hand, smiling down at him.

"This way!" he told her, tugging her along the hallway.

"Quick! Don't let her get away!" the nurse yowled, obviously struggling with Emma.

And then, the ogre appeared out of nowhere. Hulking mass of muscle sent Henry and Isabelle reeling backwards. Two hands missed Isabelle, but managed to grab Henry by his collar, and lift him into the air like a rag doll.

He yelled, kicking violently as he tried to squirm away. Ogres could crush bones with a pinch. Henry didn't have a weapon, no sword, no shield, not even a pen to poke in its eye. He struggled fruitlessly, tugging on the shirt to keep it from choking him. "Help!" he managed as the ogre stared him in the face.

He saw a flash of red leather jacket as Emma whirled into view, and he saw the ogre's face contort in pain as his mom took him down flat, leaving Henry panting, scrambling to his feet. "Thanks Mom," Henry grinned at her as she kneed the big man in the back, cuffing him. She looked like she was about to speak.

He looked up the hall. Isabelle was waiting for him at the stairs, hand outstretched. Behind her the nurse was dialing a number. Henry knew they had to get her out of there, and fast. "I'll go hide her somewhere safe, ok?" he said hastily, interrupting Emma's sentence, before racing towards Isabelle.

"Henry! Don't!" Emma called after him as the pair of them ran up the stairs, and through the door, into the main hospital.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

~: Mr. Gold :~

He had to admit, he had closed a little earlier than normal, but it was so he could meander his way home, instead of walking directly there. Out at night, just before the electric street lamps turned on was always a time of day he enjoyed. And if his wanderings took him towards the hospital, he didn't know if he couldn't help just watching a disaster unfold.

He grinned, moving right along with his cane, which had been a well thought out vice by the Evil Queen, wincing as he stepped with his pointlessly injured leg. Every step reminded him of how much he hated her, and how little he could do to her in this world without magic. Her Majesty could do with some humbling, and now here was his opportunity to watch her humility come to pass without him even having to lift a finger.

He was limping along, his new cane in hand, since his old one had been retained for "evidence's" sake, with a bit more bounce in his step than usual as he turned the corner to reach the front entrance of the hospital. He was surprised he hadn't seen Regina's car come screeching around the corner already, but he could wait for that as the story played out.

He had the hospital in his line of sight when Henry burst through the double doors, dragging someone in a patient's dress after him, head bent in concentration of running quickly. So Henry had managed to save the damsel in distress. He wondered where his mother was as they turned, his real mother, that was, as Henry checked both sides of the street to make sure no cars were coming. They vaulted onto the street, seeing that the coast was clear, were headed directly towards him. Mr. Gold grinned, peering through the dim light at them. People were beginning to follow, some only on-lookers, who stopped to let the others by and then the others, Dr. Whale and a few of his nurses who pursued them. One of the nurses was holding something up. _Let the show begin_, Mr. Gold thought with a smirk.

"Come on! This way!" the little prince was yelling at her as she stumbled over the curb in disarray.

The girl didn't look particularly dangerous, he scoffed to himself. It wasn't Maleficent who Mr. Gold had guessed would be trapped and locked away by her Majesty, which would have been a treat for him to watch as the Mayor scrambled to lock her oldest friend up again in this mysterious basement. She wasn't tall enough, though, he decided since he couldn't make out her features in the darkness. And she was holding Henry's hand. He couldn't imagine any dimension where Maleficent would hold a child's hand.

He made to move out of their way, to let them pass in all the haste that was necessary for them to escape her Majesty with a thin smile on his lips, when the electric overhead lamps flickered on, illuminating Henry and his damsel.

He stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.

She was breathing heavily, her bare feet pattering across the street along behind the little hero as they made their great escape, the Doctor and his minions hot on their heels. Disbelief slashed through him. It couldn't be.

But it was. Those were her graceful footfalls, her free flowing curly brown hair that caught in the wind. That was her height, her build. She was there. They were still heading directly towards him. She was coming towards him. She noticed he was there, staring at her.

She and Henry reached his long shadow on the pavement, and she looked him dead in the eyes, a brilliant blue he had never once forgotten. And he saw that there was no recognition there. She didn't remember his face, didn't know who he was. Agony wrenched at his heart. Having her there, having her not be able to remember him, was the cruelest thing the Queen could have possibly done to him.

He caught her arm as Henry began to maneuver her around him. How could she not know him, when all he ever thought about, all he could do was think about her? She looked back at him, terror coloring her features, looking up at him with those eyes, which were bruised with sleeplessness. She was paler, thinner than he had seen her ever, but she was unmistakable to him. Those could only be her perfect, kind lips, those were her perfect, beautiful eyes.

There was no doubt. It was her. She had come back.

"Belle?" he breathed the question.

Something spread across her face, a look of realization. Hope shot through him. She did know him! She knew! She opened her mouth to speak. To hear her voice again!

A sudden feeling of falling sent reality reeling him in as fast as gravity did. He hit the cement with a yell of pain. The forgotten little hero had kicked his cane out from under him. It clattered treacherously to the ground a few feet in front of his face. Mr. Gold looked up to see Henry dragging her away from him.

"Come on! We have to go!" he was telling her.

_Don't_, he thought at her, pushing himself up by his elbow roughly. Her eyes, which had been fixed on him, now turned away, and her bare feet and his shoed step resumed, carrying the pair of them around the corner of a building, and out of his sight.

He reached for his cane, it barely out of his grasp. Frustrated, he moved his good leg under him to push him closer, and his bad leg protested as it scrapped against the ground. Gritting his teeth, his fingers hooked around the traitorous object, and he pulled it to him.

He had to stop her pursuers. Dr. Whale was only a foot from him- he lifted his cane at just the right moment. Dr. Whale fell flat next to him, managing to kick Mr. Gold in the back of the head, and tripped the nurse that had been holding something up. She yelled, trying to snatch it up even as it smashed against the ground, and to Mr. Gold's horror and rage, it had been a syringe.

The other two nurses had stopped to untangle the Doctor and the nurse who had held a syringe.

"Forget about me, go!" he was yelling at them, trying to get his face free from the pavement where it was smashed down by the nurse's body. "We have to stop her!"

One of the nurses sprinted away obediently to Mr. Gold's chagrin, imagining what long range spell he'd use on her if he still had magic at his fingertips, but the other stayed to help Dr. Whale and the other nurse off the ground.

Mr. Gold made to get up, and was frustratingly unsuccessful. Belle was being chased, and he was powerless to help her. He'd never hated the curse he had created for her Majesty more.

"Mr. Gold!"

It was the Sheriff. She stopped next to him. "What happened?"

"Your son," he groaned, trying to shift himself into a kneeling position.

She helped him to his feet. "Did you see which way he went?"

He didn't remember his gruff reply, only that he was beginning to follow them, discreetly whacking Dr. Whale with his cane on the back of the head for kicking him. _An eye for an eye_.

He heard Dr. Whale yelp, and heard the two nurses cooing, "We'll get you back to the hospital."

"We can't let her get away!" Dr. Whale was insisting.

"We'll find her," one assured him.

They wouldn't find her. Not if they planned on taking her back there. Especially not if they planned on taking her back with a syringe. He ground the already shattered glass into the cement, turning it to dust beneath his foot. He had to get to her, but he would never catch up to her with this lame leg.

Emma was keeping up with him with infuriating ease. "What is all this about?" she demanded. He didn't say anything. He didn't want to talk to her. "Why did you trip Dr. Whale?"

"Where is your car?" he asked, hoping to interrupt her flow of questions and hoping to give her a purpose.

"In front of your shop, Mr. Gold," she said honestly.

He growled angrily, envying people with perfectly capable legs as they turned the corner just to see the Mayor pull up to them in her sleek black car. To the Sheriff, Mr. Gold amended, since he was in the shadow of a building where the Evil Soul couldn't see him.

The edges of his vision went red. He bit back a snarl as he realized something that he had not before, that hadn't even occurred to him when his Belle's image had run into his view, into his life once more.

Her Majesty had _lied_.

Dark rage gripped him like it never had before. He felt himself drawing on magic that wasn't there, a reflex from a life past, and remembered bitterly that he no longer had it. He didn't even have this reality's version of death: a gun.

He stepped out of the shadows, and Regina, who had been stepping quickly around the car to get to the Sheriff, halted, her face full of shock, and then fear as she realized her mistake. His thin lips parted in contempt.

No car could stop him at this point. She was dead. The instant the realization had struck him, she had been dead. Now she was on stolen seconds. But they would only be seconds. He remembered her pitiless, sneering words, _"He was cruel to her. He locked her in a tower and sent in clerics to cleanse her with scourges and flaying. After a while she threw herself off the tower. She died."_ Shaking with fury, he bared his teeth at her, the black rage all consuming. It was time for her reign to end.

A hand stopped him. He looked fiercely towards the owner, who was taken aback but stayed immobile in his way. Seething, he thought of breaking her wrist, and maybe a leg while he was at it, but he remembered her name then. Emma. Emma Swan. She was prophesied to be the one to end this curse. She needed to remain untarnished if she were going to be at all useful. He tried to pass by her roughly, but she moved to block him again, shifting her whole body in the way, arms outstretched.

At this point he didn't care if she were the one to break the curse or not. Who needed her when he would just kill the Queen right there and then?

"Out of the way," he snarled savagely.

"No," she said, her piercing gaze meeting his eyes. "Back off." When he stood there, seething, she said more pointedly, "Back. Off."

He held back the impulse to club her with his cane, but read something in her eyes that stayed him. He saw a fierceness there that told him, _"We'll get her later. _Later_."_ He made to fight that look, with one of his own, _"She's lived long enough,"_ but her answer to that was, "_We need to find them _now_._" He remembered the nurse running after his Belle. They had to get her to safety first. Regina's death would follow.

Mr. Gold slumped back, away, the darkness receding deeper into him. He would get Regina later. He could always get Regina later, he decided. He wished he could get to her as easily as she could get to him, but he knew killing the little prince wouldn't affect her as much as he needed it to. No. She didn't care about anyone but herself now, and he would use that to his advantage. He was going to give her a slow, agonizing death, one for the history books, no, one for the legends.

He took a step backwards, looking down the empty road that Belle and Henry had taken. Where were they now? The little prince didn't have his castle to hide in any longer. He wouldn't go to Mary Margret's, for fear of bringing the Evil Queen down upon her. Where would he take her?

"Sheriff," the Queen said in a shaking voice, "I was told a very dangerous girl escaped the hospital-."

"Dangerous?" Mr. Gold barked a growl, his eyes latching onto her again. "If she's dangerous she has _you_ to blame for it!" He almost lost his resolve to wait then and there, but Emma's face stopped him. She gave him another pointed look, before turning to face her Majesty.

"Her name is Isabelle French, and she is dangerous. Very dangerous," Regina repeated, her voice gaining strength as she recomposed herself, "When she became too much for her father to handle I suggested that he should institutionalize her for his and the community's safety." _I suggested._ How had he not seen it before? How could she let Belle die when she was the perfect bargaining chip? "Somehow she's managed to get out. I don't know how. All I got was a phone call from the ward in charge downstairs. She sounded very distressed. She said that the girl took Henry hostage."

She had locked her away in an insane asylum to use against him. She had been trapped _to get to him_. There were no words for this, this twisted scheme.

"I know perfectly well what happened, Madam Mayor," the Sheriff said in an icy voice. "I was there."

"We have – have to get her back," the Queen saw that she held no power here, despite her scrambling to regain the upper hand, "She'll hurt Henry if she's out there too long with him without her medications." She spoke to the Sheriff with false concern, hoping this would worry her. Mr. Gold could sense it was, but he could also sense it was not going to sway her to join the Mayor's side.

"Madam Mayor!" it was Doctor Whale, limping around the bend supported by his two nurses. Mr. Gold viciously hoped he had broken something. "I didn't know-."

"Dr. Whale," she interrupted, taking stock of him, "I thought you were pursuing the patient," Regina replied with rising disappointment in her voice. The poor Doctor seemed to be stammering at the look of anger she was giving him.

"He tripped," Mr. Gold offered with a nasty smile, "Over me, as it were." Regina looked at him sharply. He could see her fear as all of her plans fell apart. "You would think he would be more careful, especially running around with syringes."

"I – I," the Doctor managed, obviously trying to apologize.

"I'll see you back at the hospital," she ordered her fearful minion, before turning back to the Sheriff, "I'm going to create a search party in the town square. I trust I'll see you there." She was retreating into her automobile. Running. She could run from him, but she could not hide. _No one hides from me, dearie_, he thought as she peeled away. _No one_.

"Who is she?" Emma asked, stepping into his view again as their eyes followed the Mayor's car.

_Dead_, he thought, but when he realized she'd been talking about the escapee, he paused, something catching in his throat.

"Be a dear and run get your car for us. If we're going to catch them before the Mayor does we had better be quick about it," he stated, changing the topic. When she looked at him indignantly he said with the smallest smile, "Please?"

**A/N: I know the "Please" bit doesn't work on Emma, but it gets him so much with Regina, I can see him using it a lot! Anyways, tell me what you think! This chapter was really long. I thought about splitting it in two, but I thought it's be better this way… **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: The reviews from this last update were great! Thank you all for being so kind! I hope to hear more from you! **

Chapter 5

~: Isabelle :~

"We lost them!" he said triumphantly, looking back over his shoulder. Isabelle followed suit, and saw no one in pursuit. She grinned in exultation, and continued with Henry forward.

"Where are we going?" she asked him breathlessly a while later as he continued to pull her forward. She hadn't been so free in so long she did not mind running, just to feel the space that she had to move through, but her legs were weak from disuse. She did not know how much longer she could keep up the pace before she began to crumble into pieces.

"I don't know," he said, panting as he ran. "I was going to take you to Miss Blanchard's house, but I don't want to get her in trouble. Plus, that's where she'll think of first."

"She?" Isabelle gasped, tripping over a curb again. The pavement was rough on her bare feet.

"The Queen," Henry explained as he pulled them to a stop, looking around. "She's evil," He kept searching around the rather lonely area as though for a sign. It held only two shabby houses, and one sidewalk to link them. On the other side of the road lay dense woodlands that had yet to be tamed. They had seemingly run to the outskirts of the little town, but the boy didn't know what to do from there.

"Who was that man, back there?" she asked him, taking in a shaky breathe, the man's face weighing on her mind, as though she knew him. "The one you tripped?"

"His name is Mr. Gold," Henry said dismissively, "I think he's a bad guy, but I'm not sure."

She couldn't help but feeling that her hero wasn't right about this Mr. Gold. She felt as though she knew him from somewhere, but that couldn't be right. All she remembered of her life was her cell, a dungeon of loneliness and suspension that she was now free of, and before that? She remembered her father, but… no "Mr. Gold."

But he had called her, "Belle." It had been her father's nickname for her. Mr. Gold had whispered it, staring into her eyes, and something had clicked. But what? She couldn't remember anymore. Her head was aching from lack of oxygen, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, taking in her surroundings instead of considering Mr. Gold further.

Everything was new, the air was clean, and not stale, the breath of the wind pulling and twisting her hair in tendrils. The sky had been purple, but was now a deep indigo. The moon. She smiled to it's light, seeing its full face for the first time since long ago. The smell of the earth around them, the smell of green calling to them, she couldn't help but be drawn to the woods as her gaze shifted to find the smell. She was content here, content in her freedom, willing to bask in it forever.

"The Evil Queen has minions," Henry said as they saw a light flicker on in the house opposite them as they stood in the center of the street, and a man walking towards them from town, "We have to get out of sight." He looked up at her urgently. "Do you have any ideas?"

Isabelle stared straight up into the darkness of the woods; a place to be free and a place to hide.

"In there," she said, looking down to see him nod his head, and then, clasping his hand tighter, they ran headlong down a path into the forest.

~: David :~

He was sure it was Henry he'd seen running into the woods at night with a stranger in a patient's outfit, hand in hand. Blinking, he watched their two forms run into the forest and disappear into the darkness.

He made to follow them, wandering up the way after them, quickening his pace, feeling lucky that he had decided to go for a walk and get some air that night. He knew lots of people in Storybrooke, but he didn't know that one, and anyone running around in hospital issued clothing made him nervous, maybe because he had been one of those people himself.

He reached for the cell phone in his pocket.

He knew Henry Mills was the adopted son of the Mayor, but his immediate instinct was to call Emma. Well, maybe it was to call Mary Margret, since he didn't have the Sheriff's number, but luckily Mary Margret just so happened to live with Emma.

He dialed her number quickly, praying that she wouldn't be too angry to answer him at the moment, not that he didn't deserve it, but… What if the boy was in trouble?

After a ring and a half she picked up, just as he started to head into the forest after them, "Hello?"

He smiled at her voice, "Mary Margret," he breathed. He could feel her smile answer over the phone just as he lost view of the city lights behind him through the thickening trees.

~: Emma :~

Emma drove recklessly, but Mr. Gold didn't seem to mind. He was just on edge as she was.

"Where do you think they are?" he asked her calmly. He was hiding his emotions from her, something that he was good at and something she couldn't stand.

"I'm gonna check back at Mary Margret's real quick, and we'll decide from there."

"He won't go there," he scoffed.

"I know," she snapped at him. She was furious that he wouldn't answer any of her questions. She had half a mind to dump him outside where it had begun to rain and leave him there, but she had to keep him with her. She told herself that she was keeping him so that he wouldn't go off the deep end again and do something dangerous to Regina, but really he wanted to keep him so he would answer her questions. Even if he avoided her questions, when they found this runaway girl some answers would be given at their reunion. "But we have to start somewhere."

"Not there," he murmured.

"Look, we're gonna grab a few flashlights, and get Mary Margret to come looking with us," she managed over her impatience with the man.

"We're not going to be able to see anything in this anyways," he muttered.

She didn't say anything to that. He was right. But did he have to say it? She sped up, something she did when she was upset. She'd had to take a road rage course more than once. She realized that her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and she tried to make herself ease up on the gas pedal.

"We have to get to them before the Mayor does," she stated aloud, trying to organize her thoughts that were a jumbled mess in her brain, "For one I don't know what she's going to do to Henry when she catches up to them. And then I don't really know if Isabelle really is insane, or if she's been locked up for the wrong reasons. I would like to find out for myself."

"He's in good hands, Sheriff Swan," he spoke to the window, his voice reverent, "He'll be safe with her."

"How do you know? She could be completely different here!" she shouted, revealing her state of panic. Henry was out there thinking he was with this fairy tale princess, while she could be completely different in this life, mean and cruel. She didn't even want to imagine what someone could do to him. And the fact that Mr. Gold told her that this Isabelle was good did NOT mean that she was in the least.

"Here?" he looked sideways at her suspiciously, catching her phrasing.

"I mean, now." Dang it, the kid was getting to her. He'd been talking about the Happily Ever After place today, and it all was beginning to make sense to her. "And it's raining!" She couldn't just leave anyone out there in the rain, let alone Henry.

She parked the car with a lurch, and got out of it quickly. Mr. Gold followed suit as they headed into the apartment and out of the rain.

"I hope you don't mind me tagging along," he said as they walked inside the building, though she knew from his tone of voice that he was going to be "tagging along" whether she liked it or not.

"No," she said honestly, pausing before she reached the stairs, "We need the man power. I need some good allies," she finished with a confident smile that he shared back with a smirk. That, and she still had questions for him that needed to be answered.

As Emma hurried up the stairs, leaving Mr. Gold behind her and not caring, because every second made her more anxious about Henry, but just as she was about to open the door Mary Margret came whirling out of it.

"Emma!" Mary Margret said in delight and relief.

"Hi!" she replied, in more startled surprise then in actual greeting.

"I was just about to come looking for you," she said, looking at her intently. "David spotted Henry running into the woods with some stranger earlier. He's following them. He said he'd call when he caught up."

Emma's eyes brightened, "Let me grab my jacket."

**A/N: Ok, so, did you guys see this coming? Her running into the forest, the most free a place as there ever was. And I hope you thought my David was ok. David is harder to write than I thought, so tell me what you think, and then, of course angsty Emma. Hehe. I hope you guys liked it! **


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Guys! So many reviews! XD You all are fair wonderful! Thank you for each and every one of them! I promise to update again soon, but you all know that. I used David again, and even a new perspective. Tell me what you think. **

**OH! And you guys! Pictures of Belle in the flashbacks for the show March 4! ACK! XD Here's the link - **.com/2012/02/belle-is-dreamy-on-once-upon-a-time/

Chapter 6

~: Henry :~

"So, Isabelle," Henry asked as they paced along through the forest. They had stopped running after the sound of the outside world had died away. The rain dripped down on them through the dense trees, not enough to soak them, but enough to get them wet. "What do you remember?"

"I just remember a- cell…" she said, almost dreamily, pushing back a branch.

"A cell, that's it?" Henry asked again. That was weird.

"Is it strange that that is all that I remember?" she sounded worried, brushing her damp hair back behind her shoulder.

"I don't know, I don't think so," he lied. Normally Storybrooke people had memories of lives they never lived, but if she didn't have them, maybe the curse did not affect her as it did others. Maybe that's why she had been locked up. He moved on. "What did you do in there?"

She sounded hesitant, "I daydreamed often. I wasn't allowed books, or anything of the like, so I entertained myself with stories I remembered as a child."

"What kind of stories?" Henry asked excitedly. He loved stories, even though his adopted mom hadn't ever told him stories as a kid.

"Fairy tales mostly, a little bit of Greek Mythology even," she considered him then with an embarrassed smile, "but I'm pretty sure a guy like you wouldn't be into that stuff."

"Are you kidding me?" Henry beamed, "I love fairy tales! My favorite is Snow White."

"Snow White is a good one," she sounded reminiscent. "What do you like about it?"

He smiled, and explained to her in detail about his favorite version of Snow White, of course, the version about his grandmother and James. She was a good listener, gasping and laughing in all the right places, and asking the perfect questions.

They continued down the path companionably, in the night, but for some reason he was not scared of the black forest around them, never even considered it. It made him wonder who she was and how she fit into the entire story, him wrapping up the rest of Snow White and Prince James with a, "and they lived Happily Ever After" instead of the fact that the Evil Queen had transferred them all to Storybrooke with Emma being their only hope. He moved on to thinking about what they were going to do next.

He wondered what to do with her. He had thought about saving her. He'd gotten that part down. Now, however, he didn't have anywhere to take her to, and he didn't know what story she came from. He could remember a face like hers, he was sure, but he couldn't pair her with anyone he knew. He would have to look at the book when they found a safe place to hide.

He sighed as the rain began to come down harder.

"We can't stay in here forever," he said resignedly, thinking of Emma and Mary Margret and school. And then food as his stomach growled.

"Yes we can," she replied immediately.

"But," he said in confusion, "we'll starve."

"Not if you know what to eat," she told him with a nod, "You just need to know the right kinds of food. We can find berries, nuts in the morning."

It didn't sound like much to him, he thought, wrinkling his nose, but he couldn't take her back. Not now. He didn't know if he could save her again from the Queen. She'd probably double the guard, and one ogre was enough for him.

"They aren't that bad," she said, wrinkling her nose in his face right back at him. "You wait and see."

"How did you learn? About the berries and nuts?" he asked, hoping she might remember something about her past life. People didn't live on berries and nuts in this world. She hadn't come up with that on her own.

"I -," she paused, thinking, putting a hand to her forehead. "I don't know." She sounded frustrated. "Probably took a survival class or something…" she trailed off.

Henry sighed in disappointment and started walking back along the path with her. No of course she didn't know. None of them knew. He hated being the only one besides the Evil Queen that knew the truth. They came to a fork in the road. Henry pondered it as they walked up to it.

"Thank you," she said meekly. He looked up at her for an explanation as they slowed. "For saving my life."

"You're welcome," he grinned up happily.

"Which way?" she asked him, her smile kind.

"This way," he told her and led her down the left side of the path. Everyone always chose right automatically. Hopefully if anyone was following them it would confuse them. "So what's your favorite fairy tale?"

~: Mary Margret :~

"Turn right up here," she said patiently. The tension in the car was almost too much to break with speaking out loud, but Emma barked when she didn't know which way to go. Emma turned sharply, her wind shield wipers working faster than they needed to.

"How much farther?" Emma demanded, accelerating passed the speed limit in a matter of seconds.

"Not much," Mary Margret assured her. Well, not much if she was going to be driving like this.

Emma sped along the road towards the outskirts of town. They had traveled to the outskirts in almost less than twenty minutes, a feat almost unheard of in law abiding Storybrooke. It was a good thing Emma was the officer in town, thought Mary Margret as she clutched the side of her seat, and the spare jacket closer to her. Emma would have been pulled over for sure.

Mr. Gold sat in the back quietly. Mary Margret wanted to ask what on Earth was he doing here, searching for Henry with them, but it seemed rude to ask a question like that with him there. Maybe he was worried for Henry's wellbeing too, and he hadn't wanted to wait for the search party, but that didn't seem like Mr. Gold at all.

"Who's the jacket for?" Emma asked in a flat voice.

Mary Margret clutched it closer to her. "It's for David."

"I thought you were mad at him," Emma sounded just as disinterested. She was trying to get her mind off of worrying about Henry. Mary Margret decided that she would indulge her.

"I am, but," Mary Margret hesitated, playing with the hem of the jacket, "I thought he could use it in case he didn't have one…"

Emma smiled slightly, and Mary Margret sighed, looking out the window at the winding road. She knew she shouldn't still care about David, she knew it was wrong, and she had determined she wouldn't care about him anymore but she just couldn't help it. He was so important to her, always in the back of her mind. She frowned that thought away, and got back on track, thinking only about directions.

"Take the next turn to the left, and drive straight to the path from there," Mary Margret spoke calmly as Emma swiveled around, making the turn and speeding along through the middle of the road. Thank Heaven it was deserted.

"There's the path," Mary Margret pointed and the car lurched to a stop just a few feet past it. Emma parked sloppily, a near foot and a half from the curb, but she turned off the car and Mary Margret wasn't about to mention anything about her parking skill at a moment like this.

"The kid ran all this way?" Emma sounded surprised as they sat in the parked car with her hands on the wheel. "He's tough."

"Well he's your son, isn't he?" Mary Margret grinned at Emma conspiratorially, unbuckling and was the first to get out of the car. Emma was passing a flash light to Mary Margret, both of them ducking their heads in the down pour of rain, and Mary Margret made to hand one to Mr. Gold, but he was already over the curb and disappearing into the tree line.

Both she and Emma watched him go, stunned.

"I never thought he'd be such hiker," Mary Margret looked to Emma, who looked back at her with a similar expression.

~: David :~

He half hiked, half ran through the trees, hoping to catch them quickly. He had taken a right on a fork in the path a while ago, and now he was positive they hadn't gone that way. He would have surely caught up to them by then, so he was traveling back down the path, to take the opposite trail, hoping to catch up to them quickly. What if they had gone off the path entirely? What if they were hiding from him? What if that girl had hurt Henry in some way, or was threatening him?

"Henry!" he called into the ever dense forest, hearing his own voice echo around through the dark trees. He was grateful he'd thought to bring a jacket with him. It was keeping most of the rain off his shoulders, but it wasn't keeping his head dry. He plowed on through the thickening mud, his feet soaked and pants caked with the stuff. He sadly hadn't had enough foresight to wear boots. "Henry?" he called again, but only got an extra large droplet of water on his nose.

Peering through the deepening darkness, he pushed a tree branch aside, and was thankful when he found the fork in the path in front of him. With a small smile, he darted up the right path, the left path. He should have known to take the left path. People always took the right path, thinking it was the right way to go. He'd taken it because he'd thought Henry would be the same way. He should have gone with his gut, and taken the left path. Now he had to make up for lost time. He hoped nothing bad had happened to Henry.

~: Mary Margret :~

The rain was drenching them, and her hair came in watery rivulets around her face. Emma had thought to bring a hood. Mary Margret had only brought her beanie, which was now thoroughly soaked and useless, but she kept it on her head.

Mr. Gold still lead the way, his hair sticking to his skin as he half ran up the muddy trail, but he didn't say a word. Both Emma and Mary Margret called out Henry's name, waving flashlights around in the wet darkness that illuminated nothing and left everything pitch black. They saw nothing, and there wasn't an answer.

Mary Margret checked her phone again. David still hadn't called. Where could Henry be? Hadn't David been right on their trail? She stowed her phone back in her jacket pocket to keep it from getting wet, and hugged the spare jacket tighter to her, praying that they would find Henry soon.

"There's a fork in the path!" Mr. Gold yelled to them from 50 feet away, startling Mary Margret out of her reverie. "Which way would he go?"

Emma flashed her light at it.

"Left!" she shouted.

"Why left?" Mary Margret asked, even though that had been her instinct also.

"Because I would have gone left," Emma said, pushing onwards. Mary Margret smiled at her fondly, and followed.

~: David :~

He was thinking about calling Mary Margret on his cell phone to tell her to take the left side of the path, instead of the right, when he saw through the gloom bare legs sprawled on the road ahead, being hauled away into the trees. He panicked.

"Henry!" David called out, rushing up the path with new found strength. If anything had happened to him-

"David?" the kid poked his head out from behind a bush.

Puzzled, David slowed down just as he was reaching him. The kid's hair was wet, plastered to his head, and he was holding the girl's wrists, apparently dragging her under the large fir tree. She looked dead she was so pale.

"What happened?" David asked, thinking Henry must have knocked her unconscious.

"I don't know," his voice was panicked. "She just collapsed. I can't get her to wake up!"

David knelt down next to the muddied body, staring into the girl's unconscious, rather pretty face. She didn't look any older than Mary Margret, maybe younger, and she didn't look at all dangerous.

"She's breathing I promise!" Henry face was full of dread, "We were just talking about fairy tales when she passed out! What if it's the curse? What if it's doing the same thing it did to Graham?"

The kid was in shock. David had to calm him down. "What's her name?"

"Isabelle," Henry answered, "Isabelle Marie French. I rescued her from the dungeon- but what if she dies now?"

"I don't think she's going to die," David told him, but was checking her vitals to make sure. David put his two fingers on her neck, feeling for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. She was breathing, but shallowly. She needed intensive care immediately.

"We've got to get her to a hospital," David said seriously to Henry.

"No!" he shouted adamantly at him through the rain, blinking drops of it from his eyelashes. "They'll lock her up again! We can't let them take her away!"

Who was this girl? "What?" David asked him.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: In my mind this was longer, I swear…**

**OH, and for those asking for more Mr. Gold, there's plenty of it here. Don't fear, my dears. **

**ALSO! Thank you all for such awesome reviews! I'm really glad everyone feels like they're actually watching the show. I'm trying really hard to keep everyone believably in character. Tell me if I went overboard on Mr. Gold. I'm afraid I kind of did… **

Chapter 7

~: Emma :~

Emma heard Mary Margret's phone buzz at the same time Mary Margret did. She answered it breathlessly, "David?"

Emma kept going, Mary Margret following behind as she continued listening.

Mr. Gold was still ahead of her. No matter how fast she went Mr. Gold went just a bit faster. Emma kept waiting for him to slow down, to take a breather, but he was more determined than she had ever seen him, than she had seen anyone.

They came over a hill, to an almost straight path not far from where they had taken the left trail at the fork. Her light flashed over something not green or brown fifty feet down the path. It was blue, hulking on the path.

"Henry?" Emma called again uncertainly.

"Emma!" Henry turned out not to be the hulking shape, who was evidently David, clicking off his cell phone when he blinked into the flashlights. She saw Henry's little form leap through some bushes, running to her with open arms, looking almost the same as she had last seen him, just thoroughly wet and a little muddy. She couldn't suppress how relieved she was.

Emma found herself running to him, passing Mr. Gold, and caught him mid stride. If she hadn't held him he would have bounced off of her. "Hey kid," she said, a lump in her throat, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes.

He looked up at her from the hug, anxious faced and wet, "David wants take her back to the hospital!"

"Over my dead body," Mr. Gold murmured as he hobbled past her and her son.

Emma's eyes narrowed after him, thinking about his funny definition of justice.

~: Mr. Gold :~

Prince Charming was crouching down next to her at he sloshed through the mud. It would be the Prince saving the day. He narrowed his eyes at him, before stumbling down next to her on her opposite side, David looking up at him as he did so. Mr. Gold gritted his teeth against the pain of his leg, which had worsened as the night had progressed due to the blasted weather and his earlier falling, and then found himself staring into her face.

She had collapsed. The desperation at finding her was worsened- she had escaped away from him again. Her shell remained, lifeless, and yet it still held her. It had to keep holding her. He had to see her, just once more, had to see her smile, how it lit her eyes.

He stopped himself. He would see it. He would see her vibrant once more. He would not leave her side until he did see it. For now he had to take stock of the damage, of how hurt she was, what he could manage to do to help.

She was breathing. That was always a good sign he consoled himself, and, aggravated, thought how that almost wasn't enough. He continued on with his review.

He'd only gotten a glimpse before, but her face was even paler and her closed eyes even more sunken. He wished they would open, that they would look at him again with that same recognition that he had seen- had it only been a couple of hours ago? It seemed an age to him now. Her hair and face were smeared with mud. He attempted to smooth it all away, trying to see her beautiful skin beneath the grim, and he felt under his palm that she was shivering. She was only in a ragged hospital shift, doing nothing to shield her from the wet or the cold, a garment that was something near indecent where they had once come from. He looked sharply at Prince Charming, his mouth twitching into an unfavorable line at this thought. He pulled his suit jacket off immediately, not looking away from the Prince until he had draped it over her.

It had been the curse, he decided then, using science to make her unconscious. There had been too much medication in her body, and the curse had used that to its advantage, but it hadn't taken her life. She must have been remembering something, and it had acted quickly to suppress the memories. Yes, even in this world he knew magic, could almost taste it when it wove through the air, felt when it crept around him. The curse he knew especially well, the thick layer that coated the town, because he had completed it in his darkest hours. The hours after he had banished Belle, the anger, the loneliness, and the hours he had learned of Belle's death, unbelievable grief and harrowing despair.

He knew that nothing had been sent by the Queen. He had known that she wouldn't, not with her son so near, and not when it was such an unpredictable element. Magic was more fickle in this world than it had been in theirs. It was untamed, not strictly taking sides as some magicks had in the other world, and therefore did almost as it pleased. Her Majesty would not have dared. Therefore this was the curse's and science's handiwork. There had been too much medication in her body, and the curse had made her supplies burn out quickly. She would wake up from this again, he thought determinedly. She would not stay comatose as Charming here had. He would personally see to that.

She had never looked more fragile, he was certain, caressing her face gently, but she had never looked more real.

He had been so worried that he was making her up, that something in him had cracked and he was believing dreams and nightmares now. The curse had done far worse things to him than that, he knew, but as pressed his hand to her forehead, and he felt her burning skin, he decided that if he was believing in dreams and nightmares, he would not have come up with this. None of his dreams would have her be sick with a mere fever due to medications, nor would his nightmares really. His brain wouldn't have come up with something so mediocre, so mundane, so unlike his wonderful Belle. It was a blessing then, he decided, that she'd fallen ill, because if he had seen her again, whole and healthy, he might have truly believed he was the one going insane.

But now it was a nightmare. She was sick. He had nothing to cure her with, not in this ridiculous reality. In his old land, he could have gone to a hedge witch for a small spell, or if it had been truly bad, he would have had to have gotten a few unicorn hairs, or maybe a special root or flower if there was a poison too strong, but here? There was no magic here that could save her, only wicked science, an art that was tricky and less dependable than a two legged stool.

"We gotta get her out of here," Charming was standing, telling the Sheriff and her roommate. Distracting him. "She's sick!" Well that wasn't painfully obvious. Princes had never ranked high on Mr. Gold's scale of people. Bold and brave? Sure. Slow and thickheaded? Most definitely. Charming here wasn't so different, even if he had once been a shepherd. Royalty had gone to his head.

"We can't take her to the hospital!" Henry insisted adamantly. This little prince, on the other hand…

"Why not, Henry?" Snow White asked, surprised by her grandson's passion. How nice it was to be here, with the royal family, getting all set up for an argument while Belle's life was at stake.

"Because we think Regina might have locked her up for no good reason," Emma told her mother. Ah. At least the Sheriff could sense that, if nothing else.

"So what are we going to do with her?" David demanded.

"I don't know," the Sheriff said honestly, obviously thinking. Mr. Gold's thoughts were already ahead of hers, thinking of what to do after they had decided what to do. He had that answer ready and waiting for the right moment to slip it in. Now he was figuring out how to let the Sheriff let him keep Belle.

"I think it's the drugs in her system mixed with running all this way," Ms. Swan said, taking Charming's place, speaking more to Mr. Gold than the others. He nodded. He'd already thought of that. It didn't console him like she had thought it would. She was missing an element of the problem. "I've seen other people like this, plastered and high strung. I think the stuff just has to burn out."

His Belle, plastered and high strung like some rebellious child from this forsaken world? No, never. Even in this world she would be the child dreaming to go to college, to get away from the country life, reading every book in the small Storybrooke library as soon as it came in, rereading books she'd already read when there wasn't a new one to be had, and planning on which place to travel to first as soon as she gathered enough money. He knew all this, because he had thought about it on days where her memories weren't enough, where he'd had to invent, and have her grow in his mind, to keep her alive, even though she was dead. But she wasn't dead. She was here. He touched her face again, as though making sure she didn't disappear, thinking he couldn't wait now to see his theories tested and tried.

"We have to get her out of the rain," Mary Margret voiced her concern. "We can take her back to my place." Princesses too often stated idiotic, simpering things, and even if Snow had been an exceptional one, it was still flowing underneath her skin.

"No," Emma told her mother, still examining Belle, the problem weighing on her mind. "Regina will expect that."

"I have a cabin, not far from here," Mr. Gold spoke to the Sheriff, his waiting proving perfect, "We can take her there for now until we come up with a plan." Of course, he already had come up with a plan. He knew people, though, and he knew they liked to think that they come up with ideas on their own. The trick was leading them there.

"How much farther?" she asked.

She always needed to know the details. He knew she would take Belle down the mountain before going to his cabin if there was a similar amount of distance, just to have the battle waged on her terms. Luckily for him, there wasn't far to go, "About half a mile." Less, if he was estimating right.

"Alright," Emma nodded. He sighed. It was going to take a lot of her patience to do as he said. He could tell he was going to have to call in that favor she owed him.

**A/N: Guys, forgive Mr. Gold! He's just… really ticked at the moment. I mean, can you blame him? So what he says about Charming and Snow- ok, he really doesn't like Princes, but he doesn't really mean what he said about Snow. He's gonna be grouchy until she wakes up is all… **

**So… Did I go overboard? **


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Guys, this is a great show- I was so sad it didn't come on… and I'm a tinsy bit obsessed. Anyways, thanks for all the support on these chapters, it really helps with my writing. Also, your reviews are so appreciated! Now, for Chapter 8. ;) **

Chapter 8

~: Emma :~

_How convenient_, she thought to herself, _just to have that cabin so close by._ But she knew he couldn't just move houses around at his will. She shouldn't be so frustrated at the idea, but she could feel herself playing right into his hands again. It was something she wasn't comfortable with, especially since her campaign to become Sheriff.

Behind her, she heard David finally greet Mary Margret.

"Hey," was the lame exchange between them. Would they ever get over this awkward phase? Or would they just be perpetually stuck in this embarrassed, tongue-tied stage?

"Who's the extra jacket for, Miss Blanchard?" Henry piped up.

Emma hid a grin that was meant for her kid. He sure knew how and when to pry, just like she did. To save her roommate from the stuttering sentence that wasn't making any sense, she shouted over her shoulder, "We're gonna take her to Mr. Gold's cabin and decide what to do from there!"

"Ok!" Mary Margret said gratefully, "What can I do to help?"

"Nothing, for now," Emma said, moving to pick the girl up, and keep Mr. Gold's jacket on her at the same time. Sadly she couldn't think of any other options but then to comply with the pawnbroker, besides taking her back to Storybrooke, which seemed, at this moment in time, the wrong decision annoyingly enough.

"I can carry her," Mr. Gold said immediately when Emma began to scoop the girl up. She gave him a skeptical look, and she watched as he clutched his cane bitterly, digging it into the soaking dirt. He looked away as she hoisted the unconscious girl into her arms, trying to stand simultaneously, stumbling backwards as she did so, and right into David, who smiled good-humoredly at her.

"I'll carry her," David offered, taking Isabelle's limp form from her arms without any hesitation. He managed her weight more easily, she had to admit, and he was already hunching his way through the rain, stopping to wait for someone to show him the way. Emma looked back to see Mr. Gold's face blacken momentarily, before he composed himself. She looked at him wryly, before motioning for him to lead, and he nodded, not looking at her, but at the ground.

If this was what she was thinking it was, there was an age difference. A big age difference. The girl looked no older than twenty one. He had to be in his forties, she decided as he passed by them to lead the troop on, his nice business shirt already thoroughly soaked since he'd gallantly (and uncharacteristically) had taken his jacket off for Isabelle.

Henry was quiet at the back of the quickly moving train, and Emma, taking his hand, didn't know what to say to him.

"I wonder what fairy tale she's from," Mary Margret asked, taking Henry by the hand. Emma blinked at her roommate, stunned. She was encouraging this?

Henry grinned through the rain, "Sleeping Beauty?"

From a look from Mary Margret, Emma shrugged, "Well, she did fall asleep in the middle of the road."

"Yeah, but she should have been asleep earlier, you know, in the dungeon," Henry said dismissively.

"You're telling me you didn't wake her up with a kiss?" teased Mary Margret, water dripping onto her nose from her hair.

Henry ducked his head, waving off the notion, "I'm not in the story book, remember? And Sleeping Beauty was locked in a tower."

"So maybe, Rapunzel?" Emma proffered, taking Henry's free hand.

"Where's all her hair?" Henry asked. Emma frowned, realizing who Rapunzel was after she'd said the name aloud.

"Maybe she cuts it?" Mary Margret suggested, motioning to her own short cropped look.

Henry shook his head, "No, she'd be in a tower again." Mary Margret smiled at Emma over Henry's head. She had to admit, the teacher knew what she was doing. The kid didn't look half so frightened anymore.

"Hey, do you know who Mr. Gold is?" Emma asked, bending to hear the Kid better, but stared at the back of her sometimes ally all the while. It wouldn't help but all the same, she was still curious.

"No. I don't know. I didn't think he was really important before, but now that he's here, that means he's gotta be important right? I just can't think…," Henry made a face, "I'll have to get the book out."

"You brought it with you?" Emma wasn't as surprised as she might've been a few months ago.

"Well I had to figure out who she was when we busted her out," Henry explained. Emma nodded at that, flattening the kid's hair out. He was still pondering the unconscious girl, half running too keep up with both her and Mary Margret's long strides when the back of the cabin appeared before them.

"Up ahead!" David smiled back to Mary Margret, who returned the smile with shyness. Emma could only shrug when Mary Margret looked to her for help. She didn't have an answer for her. David was a good guy, but she could understand why Mary Margret was angry. She didn't seem so angry now, holding that extra jacket but…

Mr. Gold led them to a door, with police tape covering it.

"If you don't mind," he gestured to Emma, glancing at Belle, and then David with less than appreciation in his face.

Emma removed the police tape with a sarcastic glance, and let Mr. Gold open the door to his house.

"There's a bed, this way," Mr. Gold gestured to David.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Mary Margret asked, taking off her gloves and draping the extra, so far unnoticed jacket across a chair.

"In the kitchen cabinet," Mr. Gold said as he led David a little further to one of the few rooms in the little cottage. Mary Margret immediately started going through the kitchen's cabinets, exploring each one quickly before moving to the next.

Emma was helping the kid take his jacket off, who promptly removed his shoes and turned to her, "We should get started looking for her in the book."

"Hold on, Kid," she said, pulling out her phone to look at the time. It was close to eleven. "You need to be in bed. Soon."

"Cool! Are we camping out up here for the weekend?" he asked buoyantly.

"We'll see," she said, ruffling his wet hair before slinging off her own jacket, knowing full well the kid would have to go home tonight if they wanted to keep this girl away from Regina at all. He was already flipping through the book at the table happy and content, so she avoided telling him.

"I'll make a fire," David popped back in the room, telling a shivering Mary Margret.

"Thank you, David," she said, sounding too appreciative, and realizing it. She moved quickly into the room where the girl was with the first aid kit, leaving poor David staring after her, who saw Emma looking on at the situation and then turned away.

"Alright, I know she's not Red Riding Hood, Snow White, Cinderella or Gretel. I'm pretty sure she's not Sleeping Beauty or Rapunzel," Henry was off like a shot, trying to list how this girl could possibly be to fit into his story book. Emma twisted her mouth at him, before patting him on the shoulder and moving to see how the girl was fairing.

Mary Margret was taking Isabelle's temperature with the back of her hand. Mr. Gold was rummaging in his closet for something, unsuccessfully by the look of growing frustration on his face. When Emma looked at Mary Margret for an explanation, she said, "We need to get her out of these wet clothes."

Emma nodded, realizing that was obvious, before telling Mary, "I'm going to warm some hot water up. That way we can clean the mud off her face." Mary motioned to her appreciatively as she left. "I just hope we can warm her up," Emma muttered under her breathe, finding a pot and putting it under the tap to fill it up.

~: Mary Margret :~

"You must be insane!" Emma shouted. "To think I'd let her stay here with you!"

"She's staying," Mr. Gold sounded nonchalant to Emma's fury.

Mary Margret and David sat at the kitchen table, listening as both Emma and Mr. Gold went at it. David had made up the fire quickly, which was thankfully heating up the house and their wet socks and shoes. Mary Margret had hung their socks in front of the fire place to dry them out and had set the shoes next to the fire place to warm them up as best as they could. Poor Henry was asleep, his head on his open book as he serenely rested amid the row.

They had cleaned the girl up, and had changed her into something warm to the best of their ability, but she was still cool to the touch and unconscious. Mary Margret had packed her down with blankets and put a warm cloth on her forehead, before she had come to see what was going on after Emma had begun to shout. Mr. Gold thought it would be best if Isabelle stayed up at the cabin with him. Emma did not agree.

"If you've forgotten, Mr. Gold, you were charged for battery a few weeks ago," Emma pointed at him accusingly, "There is no way I'm letting a criminal like you stay here with her, alone."

Mr. Gold sighed, and then pulled his head up with an almost hidden confident look. "Ms. Swan, I was going to save this for later, but obviously it won't keep-."

Emma stopped him mid sentence, "I don't care how many favors I owe you, this weird, I don't know, _plot_ of yours is _not_ happening!"

Mr. Gold's confidence left his features, making his eyes flash blackly, "And I tell you she is _NOT_ going back to that wretched town with that Mayor looking to lock her up again!"

"There is no way she is staying up here with you!" Emma yelled, "At a crime scene where you assaulted _her own father_!"

"She isn't going back to that town while that _witch_ is looking to put her back in whatever dungeon she came from!" Mr. Gold roared taking a dangerous step towards her.

"Look, Mr. Gold," Mary Margret interrupted Emma's retort, and both contenders looked her way, "she can stay at my place- we can tell Regina that Emma has her under protective custody until we make sure she's not, you know," Mary Margret stopped before she said, "crazy" when Mr. Gold's face twisted in anger. David's hand tightened around hers.

"No," Mr. Gold insisted, looking away. "Regina will take her away the minute she takes a single step back into town," he sounded tired, as if all the fight had been drained out of him. He sat down at the wooden table, facing sideways.

"We can get Dr. Hopper to come up here and diagnose her," David said thoughtfully. When everyone looked at him, and Emma sat down he continued, "To prove that she doesn't need to be institutionalized. He's the only one with the credentials in Storybrooke to prove her sanity." Mary Margret smiled. Her David was brilliant.

"It did say that someone from Boston had diagnosed her on the file," Emma pondered, thinking about it. "I'll do a background check on the Doctor there. Maybe they misdiagnosed?" Mary Margret could tell she was thinking along the lines of something a bit more sinister though.

"Afterwards she can go wherever she likes," Mary Margret smiled encouragingly at Mr. Gold. "She'll be free."

"Regina won't be able to hold her," Emma nodded in agreement.

"It won't matter," he snapped, "Regina can make people disappear when she feels the need to do so."

Every one of them paused, thinking of Kathryn's mysterious disappearance. Mary Margret and David shared a grave look, Mary Margret squeezing David's hand encouragingly.

"The only place she is safe is up here," Mr. Gold said tiredly, "With me."

Emma looked like she was about to spit fire, when Mary Margret cut across her.

"In any case we have to get Henry home," Mary Margret interjected, and they all looked at the sleeping boy with fondness, "We're not moving her tonight, so the point is moot. We can discuss this tomorrow." And thank goodness tomorrow was a Saturday.

There was another argument about who was taking Henry home, and who was staying. That woke Henry up. It was finally decided that both Mary Margret AND David would stay up here to watch Isabelle, along with Mr. Gold. Emma was the only one that could face the Mayor and give her back her son without having to be bullied into answering her questions. Well, Mr. Gold could have done that, but Mr. Gold was not leaving the cabin.

Mary Margret looked at David as Henry and Emma donned jackets. He was wishing them well, telling them to call when they'd reached their car. Emma's face was darker than the night sky as she looked back at the cabin, the door where Mr. Gold sat watching his newfound ward.

It was odd, she thought, that Mr. Gold cared so much about this girl. What was she to him? But she didn't really think about it when she saw David closing the door, and looked to her with a searching gaze. She inhaled, and turned away from him, pretending to be busy gathering a blanket or two from a spare cabinet. Mr. Gold was going to be staying in the other room, of course, so it left her out here, with David…

A whole night alone with David. With Isabelle French and Mr. Gold, so maybe not alone, but… a whole night. She decided with a firm nod that she had to behave like an adult, that she wouldn't overreact. She could handle this. She could handle this and be just fine the next day.

"So you'll take the couch?" David said, making her jump. Maybe she couldn't handle this.

**A/N: Alright- so I've really thought long and hard about actually posting this chapter, since, well, it has Emma not doing as Mr. Gold asks… but in a heated moment like this, I really feel like she would say no to him. Maybe that's just me. Maybe not… not that he isn't going to ask later or anything… just it wouldn't work for Emma when she was already upset with him. Do you agree or not?**

**By the way, guys, I'm really open to everything and anything you all have to say. I'm not quite sure where to take this, anymore, but maybe you guys have some awesome ideas that I'd love to hear! You know the characters as well as I do. Tell me what you think! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

~: Henry :~

"I think I figured out who she is," Henry said through a yawn.

"Not right now kid," Emma said, staring straight ahead. They had been driving now for a while. She was going extra slow, and the heat was on high. It was making him really sleepy, even though his socks were soaked and his toes felt prune-y.

"I think she's Beauty," he continued anyways, looking up at her.

"She is pretty," Emma agreed emotionlessly, staring at the road.

"No, I mean I think she's Beauty, from Beauty and the Beast. We were talking about her favorite fairytale when we were walking in the woods, and she said it was Beauty and the Beast, and she stopped, and – and I think she was remembering something about the Happily Ever After place when she passed out." Emma was making that, "I don't believe you" face. He had to convince her, "No! It totally makes sense! It's the curse- the curse is making her forget! I bet that's it!"

"Look, Henry-."

"No, seriously! Think about it!" he was scrambling to get out the book. He had to prove that he was right, something clicking in his head. "And I bet Rumpelstiltskin is-."

"Henry," Emma's voice cut across his. "I've got to get ready to see your mom right now, and I can't be distracted."

Henry stopped, and put the book away quietly as the car moved along the road to his house. Emma had called the Evil Queen earlier, and there had been a shouting match, until Emma had just hung up. He knew she was edgy, but… He sighed, and sat back, dejected. After all his rescuing Belle they all still treated him like a kid. He wished they would just try to understand. It was all so simple if they would just look! Why did adults make things so complicated all the time?

~: Regina :~

She was pacing up and down in the living room of her clean house, peering out the window every once in a while to see if she could see that good for nothing Chief of Police with her son. She was furious. She would have that woman's badge and her heart while she was at it if this had anything, _anything_ to do with her! If Rumpelstiltskin had told her that Isabelle was locked up, that she needed to go save her – no.

Ms. Swan still wouldn't have gone directly in after her as she obviously had. She would have done some checking up on the girl first to make sure Rumpelstiltskin was not letting out some whack job, and to make sure she was not wasting her time. The Sheriff didn't trust the goblin as far as she could throw him. And even if she had agreed, there would have been more of a plan, less running, more legal obligations and paperwork, or even a getaway car. No, Rumpelstiltskin hadn't used Ms. Swan directly, but Regina was still considering cutting out her heart just for being involved with all of this.

How had _he_ found out? This had obviously been orchestrated by him. He had fed Henry some idea and sent the boy running, with Emma chasing after. That seemed the more likely story. Either way, when the Sheriff came she would have her answers. She couldn't just hang up her phone. She would have Henry to dangle in front of her and keep her until she knew every detail of what had happened. It almost always worked.

She heard the car outside of her house, listening as it rumbled to a stop. It was all she needed to hear. She came stalking through the door, leaving the door open, ready to fight. Even if in this world all that fighting meant was yelling and using threats. She saw the Sheriff's shoulders hunch, saw her put a defensive hand on Henry.

Henry was dirty, wet, and tired, dragging mud along with his feet. The woman returned her son to her in this meager state and hoped to live?

"Where is she?" Regina didn't need pretenses. She needed answers. They were on her terms now, on her battlefield.

"I brought your son back safe and sound, Madam Mayor." The Sheriff was avoiding the question, "You could at least show a little appreciation-."

She didn't have time for dodging arrows. "Cut the crap," she snarled, "Where is she?"

The blonde ground her teeth, "I couldn't find her."

"You're lying." It was obvious. She didn't need a spell to see it. The officer of the law was not a good liar. It was one of the reasons she even tolerated her in the town. Ms. Emma Swan couldn't keep anything hidden from her. She knew where the girl was. Next question. "Tell me where he's keeping her."

A look of shock crossed her face before she pretended it hadn't. Ah, so she didn't know that Rumpelstiltskin was connected to Belle. _Very sneaky, and well played_, she thought admirably, getting the Sheriff to do his dirty work without her even realizing. He had made a grave mistake though by dragging in her son. Regina would get to the bottom of this, and find Belle, kill her if she had to in order to keep them apart. It would be a waste of a good bargain though. Regina wasn't having that. Not in her world.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Still lying? She would see to that. She pulled Henry to her, holding his head to her with her arm.

"Look, Sheriff, this is my town. _I_ am in charge here. If you don't tell me where he is I can make life very difficult for everyone involved. Mary Margret could lose her job. She after all did let my son get beat up by a few bullies." Regina smoothed back her son's hair to reveal the still large goose egg, smiling. She'd thought of this idea when she'd thought of a way to get Mary Margret out of David's life. If she was too devastated, she would crumble away. Mary Margret had always been too fragile. A little red spray paint was enough to break her. And, she was sure that Mary Margret's demise was coming shortly enough, but, when why not torment her even more while she could?

"You can't do that!" Henry cried, pushing away from her. "I'll tell people that you're wrong!"

Regina narrowed her eyes at him. Couldn't he see that she did this to raise him to become a king? If he would only listen, obey her, the curse would not be broken, and he would rule here as easily as she did. They could be partners. How could he not want the power that she had in her grasp? Why must he want to be with his meaningless, worthless birth mother who was only leading him astray?

"I don't know where she is, Madam Mayor, but if you have to resort to those kinds of threats, she must be more important than I realized." Regina's eyes shot up, fixing on the Sheriff. "Why did you have her locked away, huh? Did she do something that you didn't want her to? Is that why you convinced Moe French to lock her up and then tell the town that she died committing suicide?"

The Sheriff didn't know how close she was to the truth. Regina took in a deep breath through the nose, trying to keep herself from clawing out the meddlesome creature's heart, and barked, "Get off my property."

"What?" the Sheriff looked taken aback.

"Get off my property." It wouldn't be good to commit murder in front of Henry when he wasn't ready to see it yet. She hoped that someday he would kill this woman himself once he saw reason, but tonight was definitely not the night to start him on that path. And this pointless arguing was getting her nowhere. She wasn't getting any other answers out of her, she thought furiously, and she was not about to answer any questions that the Sheriff had for her. She needed time to think, "Now. And if I catch you with Henry again, I will get that restraining order, Ms. Swan. Mark my words."

"No!" Henry sounded devastated.

She couldn't stand that he was siding with this woman right now, "Go to bed, Henry."

"No! You can't do this to her!" he was shouting. She couldn't tolerate his betrayal of her at the moment. She tried to reign in her fury.

"Kid, its fine," the impudent woman was comforting her son, bending over to look him in the eyes, "Go to bed, alright?"

"Go!" she shouted pointing Emma to the exit, who glowered straight back at Regina, but straightened, making her way down the sidewalk and through the hedges, disappearing from sight until Regina heard her little yellow beetle rumble away.

"You really are the Evil Queen," Henry scowled up at her, before running inside the house, his back pack bouncing around on his shoulders. If he wanted to make her the bad guy, fine, she would be the bad guy. The Sheriff had given her as many answers as she needed at the moment anyways- the Sheriff knew where the girl was, and the goblin was with her. She knew Mary Margret was involved. She knew how to react now.

"Yes," Regina decided aloud, taking out her cell phone, seething, "I really am."

~: Mr. Gold :~

He sat opposite from her, staring at her as though if he blinked, she would disappear. It was well past midnight, he estimated, four or five hours after if his internal clock was a judge, but there he sat on the only seat in the room. It was cushioned, red, with a half back that sloped into armrests. He wasn't leaning back though. He was sitting forward, hands folded on his cane, and his chin resting on his hands. She had been gone from him for decades. Decades. Dead. And here she was, not looking a day older, alive. Alive and with him. He couldn't believe it, so instead of believing it he sat and waited for her to dissipate into thin air.

Her feet had been bandaged. He had helped Mary Margret pull out splinters that had stuck there. She had run over urban city streets and through Maine's dense forests until her feet had bled and torn. He knew females in this world liked shoes. He had already decided he would buy as many pair as she liked after this trauma.

They had dressed her in some clothes of his. He didn't know why he had been looking for a blue dress so specifically before when he knew full well that he didn't own anything of the sort, but he would order one for her. If she wanted it. She could have anything she wanted when she awoke.

If only she just would…

She had stopped shivering, and his nerves were grateful, so he just watched her sleep, breathing easy. Her skin was not so ashen as it had been. The sleep was doing wonders for the bruises around her eyes. Surely she was the fairest of them all, not the snoring princess in the next room, sleeping on the couch while her prince snored even louder below her on the floor.

And that was something else that bothered him.

Was any of what her Majesty told him truth? Had she just snatched Belle away from her father in the nick of time? But there were no scars on Belle's back, nothing that looked like flaying of the flesh, no evidence of her father's cruelty. That would have carried over to this life according to the rules of the curse. He had scars that carried over, burns, and pains. Maybe her Majesty had just hidden her away the first chance she got a hold of her, and Belle had never seen her father again. The entire story could have been falsified. He wouldn't put it past the Evil Soul to do so. The woman had killed her own father to enact revenge on a girl that didn't even understand the gravity of what she had done by not keeping her Majesty's secret. He could see her picking Belle up and carrying her off, locking her away in a dungeon, and keeping her there until she was useful.

Locked away again to be used against him. _His fault… it was his fault_, his mind echoed. _His fault…_

He clamped down on his new cane.

He wondered if she would remember. He had wanted her so badly to remember, but maybe she wouldn't. And now he wondered if that would be so bad a thing. He remembered her leaving him, him driving her off in anger. He had been so afraid of the power she had held over him then, the Evil Queen realizing it before even he did and using it to her advantage before he had even thought about it closely. Terrified, positive others would use her against him to make him weak, he had sent her from his sight, and had never seen her again because of his folly. He had regretted it ever since.

Now that Belle was back, he realized, he almost hoped she wouldn't remember him. She would remember his cowardice, his inability to relinquish his power for her. He couldn't bear for her to hate him for it. She had been locked away to be a tool against him, and if she could remember that, she could remember that she could have learned to hate him, as she must have if she had been told under what circumstances she was being imprisoned for.

Dread seared through him, and he shook. _It was his fault_.

But he didn't know if he could stand her not knowing who he was, not seeing him as her true love. She had known that to be true in the past, but here? He was just an old crippled man charged with assault crimes against her father that had put him in the hospital for a long time. She would hate him quickly, and never forgive him.

_All his fault. _

There was no way to keep her near him, no way to make her stay. She would just leave once she had healed. Here he couldn't use the Ogre wars to make her stay at his house, once again a bargaining chip to be played in his favor. He couldn't think of any sane reason she would stay at his house as caretaker or under any other premise in this world. She would go back to her father's house, and he would never see her again without a glower on her face directed towards him. That was, until her Majesty had her disappear again.

She could only be safe with him, he thought to himself viciously. He was the one in charge of the town. No one would dare threaten him. Besides, the last time she had left him, she had ended up presumably dead and was left alone in a dungeon. He would never let something like that happen to her again. He couldn't bear if he was responsible for more of her misfortune, for more sadness to cross her beautiful face.

He shuddered at that thought of not seeing her smile again, after seeing the quiet, muted smile that she wore even in her sleep, shaking with self loathing and fear. He could not win here. She would hate him no matter what happened, memory or no memory intact. He was doomed to her loathing. After all the fact that she was alive, he would never have her love again. Who could ever learn to love a beast, after all, when they've seen its truest nature?

And she had seen his true cowardice. If not she would be witness to it shortly enough. Beating a captive man, her father, for the pleasure of doing so… What a mistake that had been. He was lucky, as the Sheriff had said, that he had not killed her father now that she was alive. If he had killed her father, he couldn't imagine the heart break that would have caused her.

For now though… he would watch her unknowing face, welcome her light breathing, enjoy the peace here in the room between them, studying her features for however long she would be asleep, to keep them in his mind permanently, no matter what her waking brought. She sighed in her sleep, startling him out of his reverie, and she shifted sideways, facing him.

Light illuminated her features. The rain had stopped some time ago to reveal the threads of light, blued pink, spreading across her face. True light would come soon, burning through him as it woke her. She always did rise with the sun.

Mr. Gold found himself sitting back. Wracked with torment as he was, he almost missed the noise.

It was someone rattling the back doorknob.

Her Majesty had always moved swiftly when problems with her plans arose. It didn't matter what world she was in. He reaffirmed his jaw and stood, walking stealthily over to the dresser. The rattling got harder. He pulled the gun from the dresser drawer, and moved to the bed room door with predatory aggression.

Dawn peered through the window, onto Belle's face. He looked at her when he heard her shift, watched her blink awake. Her eyes met the golden pool, and her head turned as she heard the noise at the back door too. Saw him holding a gun in the air. Her bright eyes widened. She sat up swiftly.

He pressed a finger to his lips, nodding towards the room outside.

They listened at the door popped open. She stiffened where she sat, hands clenching her bed sheets. He could feel the fear radiate off of her, feel the confusion tangible in the air, heard it as she held her breath. No. Her Majesty nor her men would not lay a finger on her ever again, even if it meant his demise. Not now that he'd seen her awake, startled face once more.

Eyes narrowing, he tilted his head around the corner.

**A/N: Woohoo for cliffhangers! Review and I'll post more tomorrow- I love you all my Dearies! **

**Oh- and Regina? Scary! And SUPER hard to write- :D thank you all for your support! **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

~: Emma :~

Emma chomped down vindictively on a doughnut. As a police officer she felt she was entitled to the occasional doughnut, and as a very tired, very grouchy, very sleepless police officer driving up at five in the morning to see a criminal creeping over his- whatever Isabelle was to him- she felt entitled to the glazed, dipped in chocolate with éclair filling and sprinkles on top doughnut.

She had grabbed gear. She had grabbed spare clothes. She had even grabbed provisions. Now all she needed to do was figure out how to get Mr. Gold out of there so she could talk to the girl, that is, assuming she would be awake today. Isabelle French was a potential danger that she had released out into the open and now she wasn't so comfortable with the idea of her as she had been last night after they had found Henry.

She didn't want this girl back in the Mayor's clutches, though. She was obviously important in that respect. She didn't know what to do though. If the girl really turned out to be crazy she would have to return her to the basement, no matter how much she disliked it. She could petition for a new, well known institution in the city, could possibly check up on its records, but honestly, if Dr. Hopper thought that she was, well, crazy, then…

Emma munched through the doughnut's core, some filling spilling onto her shirt. Cursing under her breath, she wiped it off, swerving into the middle of the road. No, she wasn't the best driver on little sleep, but thankfully no one in their right mind was up at 5 AM on a Saturday driving around.

Emma adamantly wished she was in her right mind.

She had gone the back way to the cabin last night, but today she was going to drive straight up to it. She wasn't about to go hiking up that hill balancing breakfast, clothes, and the research that she had done on the Doctor from Boston. Who had turned out did not exist. It made her think that Regina was just making up Isabelle French's life sentence to a psychiatric ward. What did this girl know that no one else did? Was it enough dirt to get Regina off of her throne as Mayor?

She seriously hoped so.

~: Isabelle :~

"This is amazing," she said, flipping the silver lever on and off. "And you say all water comes this way these days? No wells?"

Henry chortled, "No, there aren't any wells anymore. I mean, there's a Wishing Well down in the park, but people don't really use it."

"A Wishing Well?" Isabelle wondered if it really worked. She would have to visit and try it out. She looked over at Mr. Gold and smiled. She liked the man, as he sat, watching her with his cane. She couldn't help but wonder where she had seen his face before. She liked the way his eyes danced mischievously, their dark depths full of tricks and twists so topsy turvey she would surely never discover all of them without getting lost.

"Yeah," Henry was saying and went on explaining the Wishing Well.

Henry had been the one that had scared her and Mr. Gold by breaking into this quaint, small cottage. _No, the word is cabin, here_. Henry had called it a cabin and it belonged to Mr. Gold, who had offered to let her stay until she wanted to leave. Mr. Gold had given him quite a fright with that machine of his. Isabelle had asked what it did that scared him so badly, but all Henry had said was that when you pulled the trigger, it killed people. It was some magic she had not yet learned about, just like the rest of this cabin. There were switches to the overhead lights, no candles, just automatic light that came from _light bulbs_. Also, the dishes were amazingly crafted, as was the odd, almost wooden box Henry had poured food out of. Cereal, he had called it.

It had been too sweet for her liking, but she had eaten it to be polite.

Henry looked like he hadn't slept much that night, and he said he would have to go soon, before "Emma" came up. Emma was his mother, his real mother, not the Evil Queen, the woman he lived with. And also, they had to be quiet when they spoke because Miss Blanchard and David were sleeping on the couch and on the floor.

"Look, I have to go," Henry said hastily, glancing at his watch, "But will you be here tomorrow?"

Isabelle looked at Mr. Gold, his eyes still following her movements. It was a familiar sensation to her. She knew somewhere it should have bothered her, but it didn't. "Will I be here tomorrow?"

He gestured broadly to her. "That's up to you, my dear."

She smiled, half curtseying at him, which was odd in breeches and a tunic, but worked nonetheless, and told Henry honestly, "I'll be here tomorrow."

Henry's and Mr. Gold's smiles were infectious.

"Henry," Mr. Gold said, standing awkwardly, supporting himself heavily on his cane, "A word?" He looked to her, as though to ask if she were alright by herself, which she told him silently that she was. She had a lot of sorting out in her brain to do, and she had hidden her fear from the boy because he had shown her such kindness so far. He'd helped her get out of bed, had walked with her over to the kitchen table, had even begun telling her about his favorite book that he wanted her to read sometime.

Mr. Gold followed Henry out, and she looked after them, leaning over the sink to peer through the window into the back of the house, which faded steadily into woodland. She watched Mr. Gold speak to the boy, and when he glanced back at the cabin she turned away, and started on cleaning the dishes, pulling up the silver lever to start the water. It was so convenient.

How come she didn't remember anything? She knew she should- there were gaps, holes, in places that should not have had holes. It was frightening, and frustrating. She couldn't explain it, like missing puzzle pieces or missing chess men. She remembered her father, a man she had loved with all her heart, but she could not remember much else about her past. She remembered having an arranged marriage, but somehow it had not come to pass. Somehow she had gotten herself locked up, first in a dank, stone room, with chains and little to nothing to eat and then in the white walled, padded room, with three meals a day and small tablets that she was forced to take, along with needles and things that made her forget even more. She couldn't remember the transition, but she remembered she had been so much more depressed in the stone room. Both places had similar faces though. The ogre looked more like a man when she had been in the white walled room. She had lost count of days, years, lost in thoughts and half out of her mind. She hadn't been able to think clearly for so long each breath she took revitalized her, kept her mind fresh and working.

And, to her joy, some memories had already started to come back. She remembered that she had had a necklace that her father had given her. It was missing now. She remembered that she was fond of roses, and that her mother had died when she was young. But- the missing pieces would not form. She made a face of distaste, and looked out the window again at the boy and the man.

It felt like both of them knew her, that they both had answers to give her. She couldn't help but smile as the boy grinned. She only hoped they would fill in the blanks soon. It was awfully frustrating not knowing what was going on.

There was a noise at the front door. Isabelle jumped, spinning on the spot as who had to be David, because of his short raven hair went for the door.

Mr. Gold had shown such fear at the noise at the back door before- was there reason for it? She wanted to tell the raven haired person not to answer the door, but it was too late. With a stretch and a half yawn, the door was open.

A blonde stepped through, heavily laden and wearing breeches just like Isabelle was.

Isabelle looked back to see Henry disappearing through the woods down a path, and Mr. Gold making for the back door.

"It's early." Isabelle blinked in surprise, turning to face the situation behind her. The person she had assumed was David spoke in a high pitched soprano, a sound that Isabelle was sure could not be a man's. She took a closer look at the ebony haired person.

"No, it's late," the blonde barked sarcastically.

"Someone's grumpy," the raven haired person stretched, and Isabelle knew she could not be a man. Such short hair, also wearing breeches. Did all girls wear breeches? What was this world like now? "Got out of the wrong side of the bed?"

"Didn't get into bed," the blonde admitted.

"I thought so. What kept you up?" the ebony haired girl wondered through a yawn.

"Turns out this Doctor guy doesn't exist-." The blonde stopped short at the sight of Isabelle. Isabelle faced her in return, taking her in just as the blonde did. "You're awake," she said.

~: Mr. Gold :~

"What's this about Mr. Gold?" Henry asked, rotating around to face him. The child had a shrewd face. Mr. Gold narrowed his eyes. The little prince had figured it out at last. Belle had given him away. She was his weakness, always had and always would be. "Because if this has anything to do with a deal I -."

"It is a deal, for you, Your Highness," Mr. Gold smiled, cutting across him. Henry's eyes widened at the title. It was always better to butter up the royalty, and it revealed that Henry had confirmed two suspicions in one go. Mr. Gold was Rumpelstiltskin, and Mr. Gold remembered. _Remembered too keenly_, he thought painfully, "One that you're not going to want to pass up."

"I'm listening," Henry stared up at him, folding his arms across his chest, a cunning face amid so many that weren't.

"I shall give you proof," he felt himself playing back into his old role, a sly peering through his eyes, a flick of his hand.

"Evidence of what?" Henry demanded.

He should have known the boy would be on his guard. He had a whole book of fairytales depicting how indirect and slippery Rumpelstiltskin could be.

"That the curse does exist," Mr. Gold said with a smirk.

Henry grinned broadly. "I know." He was still delighted to hear someone agree with him though, Mr. Gold could tell. "So what's the catch?"

"Not a catch," Mr. Gold grinned, "But a price. If," he added, the familiar leer in his voice, "you promise not to tell her about the Other place, then I promise to give you proof."

The prince looked scandalized, "What- why can't I?"

"She needs to remember on her own." Yes, she needs to remember in her own way, in her own time. He didn't know what the curse would do to her if she were told outright. He couldn't have her slipping into a coma, like this prince's grandfather. And, she didn't know… didn't know that it was all his fault yet… Anything, to see her face smile.

"That doesn't make any sense." He was annoyed. Mr. Gold could see Henry thinking over what this possibly could do for Mr. Gold. His ten year old mind was cut short by Mr. Gold's stipulation.

"It's a deal, Your Highness. Take it or leave it." He didn't need to explain himself to the boy. He pretended to be examining his nails- oh making deals with children had always been something of a delight to him.

The little prince was still deciding, but wanted to hear the offer, "So what proof can you give me?"

Mr. Gold grinned broadly. "My words aren't proof enough?" he said, touching his chest with a flourish.

"Nope," he shook his head, staring up at him eagerly.

He looked at the boy, "I only have one thing to prove to you that the curse is real."

"And?" Henry stepped closer. "What is it?" Mr. Gold had him just where he wanted them.

"I," he waved his hand until he was half bowing at him, "have the puppets from the tale of Jiminy Cricket." They were almost inconsequential to him, hanging up in his pawn shop. It was something the boy could have easily figured out if he'd had his eyes open. Mr. Gold was losing nothing, and Henry was giving everything. Just the way he liked it.

Henry's eyes went round. "You do? –." He paused, and then narrowed his eyes up at him, "That's not all, is it? You wouldn't have bothered saying it was the _only_ thing if that were true."

Mr. Gold eyed the boy with new found respect. The boy had brains despite his lineage. Maybe from the father's side?

"I don't want to see the dolls," Henry shrugged, looking at the ground, playing casual. The prince was new to the game, but he was going to be a good player, Mr. Gold decided. Mr. Gold wanted him to play on his side, if he could manage it.

"What do you want to see?" he gestured graciously. Appeasing royalty had once been his entire life, he thought with a smirk. He was sure he could appease this little prince, even if he no longer had magic at his finger tips. He had evidence of most stories in the pawn shop. He was sure he could scrounge up something. Something of Henry's grandmother's or grandfather's perhaps?

The boy seemed overconfident as he scrutinized Mr. Gold's face. "The tea cup."

Mr. Gold's airs retreated immediately into himself, his face twisting into a grimace. Curse that storybook. It obviously had too much information. "What tea cup?"

"Belle's tea cup," Henry told him. As if Mr. Gold of all people needed that clarification. "You still have it, don't you?"

_Not for your greedy little eyes_. "Sadly it was lost."

"No it wasn't," Henry spoke unabashed.

"You're not seeing it." No, he was not going to see it. Not after his adoptive mother had gotten him into trouble with the law over it. _Conniving family_, he gritted his teeth, taking him off guard like that.

"Fine," Henry sounded carefree, slipping his little hands into his pockets. "I forgot my cereal anyways." He made towards the door of the cabin, where Mr. Gold saw Belle standing in the window. _No_, something in him said. Her face was enough to persuade him. _His weakness…_

_Too good a player already_, Mr. Gold thought viciously. "Alright, Your Highness, you get your wish."

"Excellent," Henry turned back to him, triumph written all over his features. Oh yes, a good player. The smug look continued as he asked, "How do I know you're not tricking me?"

"All I want is for her to remember- remember on her own," Mr. Gold said, falling back into his Storybrooke character, the anger and teasing falling back into himself, resting both of his hands on his cane as he looked into the tree line.

"But why? How do I know you just don't want to keep the curse intact? The Evil Queen made you a good deal," Henry pointed out. Ah, true. But she had also lied. Lied and hid someone that wasn't hers.

"Yes, that she did," Mr. Gold acknowledged, still searching the horizon, "but that was before I knew she was alive."

"Well, then we have a deal," Henry offered his hand, and then withdrew it before Mr. Gold could take it. "Wait." Wait for what? What more did the kid want? He was getting his bloody proof. "I need to see the proof before the end of the next 48 hours."

Ah, the kid was still good, not too greedy as to forget what he was agreeing to. There went his loophole. "Wise, Your Highness, to set a time limit." It was no matter. He would think of another one.

"I know who I'm dealing with," Henry eyed him cautiously, but his expression was still smug.

"And never forget it, Your Highness."

They shook hands.

"She'll forgive you, you know," Henry told Mr. Gold as he made to go. Mr. Gold paused, not turning back, but listening. "She'll forgive you when she remembers. She's braver than you are, Rumpelstiltskin." Mr. Gold started at the name, an echo from a lifetime ago. "She'll be brave enough to try to kiss you again."

Mr. Gold was saved from his reply by the sound of a car rumbling up to the house. He turned back to see Henry running for the path. The sun was barely even up.

Mr. Gold walked back up to the cabin, thinking over his and Henry's conversation. _She'll be brave enough to try to kiss you again…_

**A/N: You guys, I love Henry as a character. He's basically the best. **

**Let me know how I did- your reviews are always so wonderfully appreciated and so needed. They keep me writing. **

** Oh- and By the way…**

** Belle comes on in five days! XD I'm so excited! **


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: You guys, you're in for a treat. 14 pages on Microsoft Word here before your eyes. I couldn't break it up in any way, so I am posting it all- I really hope you like it! **

Chapter 11

~: Archie :~

"Thanks for coming with me," the Sheriff said a little grudgingly, her eyes on the road.

"Of course," he said, though really he felt like he hadn't had much choice when she'd basically slung him into her car, telling him to bring his "psychologist stuff." He had an office full of "psychologist stuff." That's why he had an office. However, arguing with the town sheriff never had done anyone any good, and honestly, he was curious. "Does this have something to do with Henry?"

"What?" she asked a little distracted.

He clutched his umbrella, "I heard he was abducted last night by a dangerous criminal. I'm glad you were able to find him."

"Dangerous criminal?" the Sheriff barked. "Really?"

Archie tried to explain, "It's what the Mayor said-."

"Yeah, I'm sure it's what the Mayor said," she sniffed, and then said, "No. I'm not worried about Henry right now. It's the girl that he was with-."

"The abductor?" Archie was intrigued, and at the same time nervous. This was serious stuff.

"No, she didn't abduct anyone," the Sheriff said sharply, "She just escaped from a psychiatric ward I didn't know about." She turned off the highway onto a smaller road, going just as fast. Apparently there were perks to being the only cop around.

"A psychiatric ward? Here, in Storybrooke?" he was confused. He'd never heard about it, and as the town's psychiatrist, he of all people had a right to know about a whole ward full of people.

"Yup," she smiled a little grimly, "I'm glad no one else seems to know about it either."

"What is her name?" Archie asked curiously.

"Isabelle French," she answered, a little fondness in her voice, handing him a very beat up and abused manila folder, which he took gingerly, "I just want to get her checked out, you know? Because so far it seems like she was locked up for no reason."

"Isabelle French-," he mused, looking inside at the folder. It said that she was on several very serious medications, "but isn't she dead?" he looked away from his reading material. He remembered her father coming in to him a few times, asking for help with his depression after she had passed. He had even gone to her graveside with him… he couldn't remember the details though. He brushed it away. There were a lot of people with a lot of problems in his life. He couldn't remember them all no matter how he wished he could. He would just look up Moe French's file when he returned from- from wherever they were going.

"Yeah, that's what everyone wants to believe," the Sheriff nodded, swerving along the winding roads up the side of the hill.

"You're starting to sound like Henry," Archie grinned at her, but when she glanced back with a glower he looked hastily away. He cleared his throat, "So, how come you think she was locked up for no reason?"

"Because the Doctor I read in her file doesn't exist. I ran a background check on him last night," she said, pointing to the folder, "That, and Regina seems pretty pissed that she's escaped."

"Yeah, she was having everyone put up flyers with the abductor's," he hesitated, correcting himself, "I mean, Isabelle's face on it." The picture in the file and the picture on the posters were the same. The same mouth in a grim line, the same dead look in the eye. She looked believably hazardous, but if she was that drugged up, he couldn't blame her at all, "But if she isn't dangerous-."

"And she's not-," the Sheriff supplied, "she's a small thing, looks like she would catch and release a spider before she would kill it." She shuddered, "I hate spiders."

"Interesting," he said, beginning to peruse the folder again. Again, the medications seemed severe for what she had apparently done. It said that she was a threat to her own life, that she would kill herself, and cut herself. He would check her wrists to find proof of that. It said that she would fly into fits of rage, but… nothing seemed to warrant this kind of lock down, like the Sheriff had said. Well, he would have to see for himself. That and… a faked death? Was that even real? It sounded so conspiratorial, like Henry had made it up and his birth mom was playing along with it. He would get to the bottom of it soon enough.

"We're here," the Sheriff shoved her foot to the brake and they made a sudden stop.

Archie looked up from his reading to view the sight before him. "Mr. Gold's cabin?"

"It's a long story." The Sheriff didn't sound pleased at all as she got out of the car. Archie followed suit, grabbing his brief case and umbrella as he did so.

Mary Margret Blanchard answered the door. "Emma," she smiled in greeting. "Dr. Hopper, how are you?"

"Call me Archie," he smiled at the school teacher.

"Hey," David Nolan came up behind her, grinning.

Archie blinked in surprise. Away together in a cabin? Wasn't there already enough scandal about them going around, with Kathryn having disappeared? He realized, scolding himself that he had no room to judge, and that if they were happy, then what could he say?

He followed the Sheriff into the room, and saw Mr. Gold sitting there with his cane. Archie made a face. He had never particularly liked Mr. Gold, but it had been inexplicable. He just seemed to cause a lot of stress and trouble for a lot of people in town. Now he wondered what Mr. Gold was doing amid all this mess.

"Where is she?" the Sheriff asked, glancing at Mr. Gold.

"She's taking a shower. She just turned off the water a minute ago. Emma you wouldn't believe it, she didn't know how to work a shower. It was darling!" Mary Margret giggled, passing David to follow Emma. "I just stuck her in there and she came out a moment later just saying that she didn't understand."

"Dr. Hopper," David Nolan shook his hand, distracting Archie from overhearing their conversation.

"Mr. Nolan," Archie said congenially. "We were supposed to meet a while ago."

"Call me David," he let go, "And yeah, but, I didn't think it'd really help all that much, with my amnesia and all. I mean what can you do?" David shrugged, smiling. Archie nodded his acceptance.

"It's alright. Just let me know if you have any trouble with it," Archie told him, wishing he could help. But he was right; amnesia was a hard one to fix- that was more for the medical men than him.

David agreed, "Of course."

A door opened. Mr. Gold stood respectfully as a wet headed girl stepped into the room, patting down her hair with a towel. She smiled kindly at Mr. Gold, and looked in on the scene before her. "Oh, Emma, you're back," her voice was pleasant, accented. "Can I get you something to eat?" She looked to see Archie, her blue eyes landing on him. He knew then that she wasn't dangerous, or even risky. She was determined, at most, but- he stopped himself from jumping to conclusions. He would need to test her first. She could be deceiving them. "Hello," she smiled, stepping forward, offering a polite hand with a smile. He took her hand, noting that there were no scars on her arms or wrists.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Archie Hopper," he supplied. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it.

She looked at him with an appraising eye, "So, Doctor Archie Hopper, do you want to stay for lunch?"

"Of course," he smiled. "But I would like to ask you a few questions first," he said, looking at the Sheriff, who nodded encouragingly, "Is there a room we can use?"

"Do you mind if we speak outside?" she inquired, looking through the kitchen window, "It's such pretty day."

Archie paused, caught off guard by the request. "Um, certainly," he nodded his approval. Her answering smile was enough to alleviate him of all quandaries. He decided then that she sounded too honest for there to be a lie. He had never known why, but he could always tell the good ones from the bad.

She led him out of the back door, looking back at Mr. Gold as she went, smiling rather fondly at him. Archie frowned at that, closing the door behind them. How did Mr. Gold fit into all of this? It was something that was obviously going to bother him for the rest of the day.

When she sat on the ground opposite a tree stump, he sat on the tree stump. She was fiddling was the grass in her hands, looking happily at the sky as he pulled out a few papers from his briefcase, trying to keep the light breeze from tugging them away. He looked back at the cabin to see Mr. Gold standing at the kitchen window, watching them. Archie frowned at that, but sighed it away when he knew there was nothing to do about it and he let the long process of asking her questions begin.

~: Mary Margret :~

It was dusk when she and David went to the grocery store. They had driven Dr. Hopper back to his home, promising to get him when they returned the next day. He had been excited, talking about Isabelle passionately, a new challenge in his career. No, he didn't think that she was crazy, but she was so unaware of all of society's more modern concepts, like cars, and electricity. It was all so fascinating to him. Archie could not wait for further study, and as he said, he wasn't quite finished with the diagnosis yet.

She and David had laughed once the psychiatrist had gotten out of the car and they had rumbled away together in the old yellow beetle. "Do you want me to drop you off at your place?" Mary Margret asked David as they drove around Storybrooke.

"No," David shook his head. Mary Margret chanced a sideways glance. "If it's alright I think I'd rather go back up there."

"Isabelle's not dangerous," Mary Margret teased.

"I know," David acknowledged. "But Mr. Gold is."

Mary Margret understood what he meant, immediately touched by his gallantry. She continued on with their conversation, trying to act casual, "Well, then I guess we'd better stop by the grocery store and pick up some more food together then."

He smiled at the word together. "And then we can swing by my place so I can grab us a couple of sleeping bags, one for Emma, too."

"And a change of clothes," she grinned at him.

He looked at her, "Do I smell that bad?"

"No, just you haven't changed in almost two days now, and you are muddy," she stated openly, trying not to offend him, "I just thought you would want- I guess you can stay-." She hadn't meant to offend him. She glanced over at him. His smile was kind. He had been kidding. She shook her head and laughed.

At the grocery store she and David had split up, for society's sake. She grabbed a basket and went to find fresh produce and some fruit. He grabbed a cart and went to the frozen food section. They met in the middle, between the canned goods and the bakery, and smiled quietly to one another as they walked in opposite directions. Mary Margret rather liked this game they played, sometimes at the diner, sometimes just walking around Storybrooke. They were just two people in a small town, who happened to be in love.

"Good evening," a voice startled her from her reverie. She blinked her green eyes around to see Sydney Glass taking his hat off to her. She smiled at him cordially.

"Mr. Glass," she said in greeting. Once she had thought that Mr. Glass was the Mayor's pet, but since helping Emma with what they had believed was a scandal, she couldn't help trusting him. "How are you?"

"I'm doing well, Miss Blanchard, very well," he meandered towards her along the aisle. They looked at the soup options, Mary Margret deciding which soup would Isabelle like best, when Mr. Glass spoke up again, "Did you hear about yesterday's scandal?"

"What scandal?" she queried, half interested, half sure that David was watching her from the end of the thin row of food. She was worried it would have to do more with Kathryn.

"Didn't you hear?" he was astonished, "Henry was kidnapped- by a criminal who apparently escaped a prison."

It was her turn to be shocked, but not by what he was thinking. Isabelle was being portrayed as a criminal? "Really?" Mary Margret's eyes narrowed. The Mayor's lies were all over this. She wondered who else was being fed them. Probably the whole town, at this rate, especially if this gossip was flying around. Poor Isabelle French when she came back into town. There would be more scandal about her than there was about Mary Margret and David.

"Oh, but don't worry," Sydney spoke up, startling her, assuring. "The Sheriff got Henry back safe." He thought that she had been nervous about Henry.

"Oh, good," Mary Margret nodded distractedly, redirecting her attention to the shelves of soup, "How about the – uh, criminal?"

The once famous reporter bowed his head, "No, she wasn't able to find her." He added, "But I'm sure the Sheriff will have her in cuffs before anything else bad happens." He looked around then, as though to make sure no one was listening. "As a friend to the Sheriff, I thought you could help me out a little."

"You're friends with her too," Mary Margret eyed him with a small smile. She didn't know if she liked where this was going.

"We're- allies," Mr. Glass weighed out, tilting his head back on forth as though to show the scale. "But since you live with her, I was wondering-."

"Maybe you can ask her yourself," Mary Margret suggested politely, shifting her shopping basket to her other arm.

"I just was wondering if you had any, I don't know, inside scoops," he continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "Its been, hard, working for the paper lately. Ever since Regina- I mean," he stopped himself, editing, "Ever since I've been, well, more or less out of favor…"

"I really don't know anything about it," Mary Margret told him, trying hard not to feel terribly guilty. The poor man looked so distraught. "I'll ask Emma to give you a call."

He caught her arm as she tried to leave. She turned back at him, surprised, and blinked in shock at the firm, disapproving look on his face. She tried to tug away but his grip was determined. "Mr. Glass?" His eyes looked so dark as they stared her down. She began to panic.

"Let her go," David's voice came up behind her.

Immediately the panic dissipated, and she realized as Sydney Glass let her arm go it had been a silly emotion. Sydney Glass was someone she had known for years. She read his articles in the newspaper all the time. He wouldn't hurt her.

David shielded her from view, leading her to the checkout stand. She found herself still rattled, and felt ashamed at the ridiculous notion. "Are you alright?" he asked under his breath as they stood in line behind a couple of people.

"I'm fine," she said, and cursed as her voice shook. How come this had scared her so badly?

David wasn't fooled, but he said nothing as they waited impatiently, David swaying where he stood, craning around to see if Sydney Glass was looking after them. He wasn't though. He was talking on his cell phone.

David paid for the food items before she could even find her wallet in her purse, and took the shopping bags in one hand, and wrapped an arm around her with the other, heading out of the store into the twilight sky. She leaned against him appreciatively. Ever since David had come he had felt right, even when he'd felt wrong, if that made any sense. In her sub conscious, ever since Henry had suggested it, thinking about them as a pair was something that she had just accepted. She couldn't imagine it any other way, she decided as he opened the door for her.

"Want me to drive?" he asked, his voice full of concern as she sat in the driver's seat.

"No, but, thank you," she smiled appreciatively at him as he closed the car door gently after her.

As he walked around the car and she put the key in the ignition, she wondered, what would she do without him now?

~: Isabelle :~

It had been late afternoon when Doctor Archie Hopper left, taking both Mary Margret and David with them. After he had asked her all of those questions she had felt tired, but not as tired as Emma, who had passed out around mid afternoon, her legs half dangling off of the sofa.

Mary Margret had kindly made lunch, peanut butter and jelly spread on oddly sliced bread. However, after several years of eating mushed meals chewing on anything was a miracle to her. Mary Margret had said she would be back up later with more food, because Emma had only brought that one loaf of bread and those jars of peanut butter and jelly spread to satisfy them. Isabelle could hardly wait to see what other wonders arrived in that horseless carriage.

It was all disorienting, the food, the odd glass, non glass jars, the electric ice box, the odd greeting with a handshake, something that she had never witnessed, but had decided to perform when she had seen David and Doctor Archie Hopper greet in that fashion through the small crack in the door. She had been nervous at the concept of a new comer, so she had watched, and had determined that Doctor Archie Hopper was a kind man. She hadn't quite been so willing to answer all of his rather odd questions, but she had, if it meant that the woman in black would no longer come looking for her.

It had been wonderful to be outside however. The wind, the chill, the smells. Her feet had hurt, yes, but she still rubbed her toes in the soil, the lush grass tickling her. It was all so new, so magical, this feeling. This freedom.

She was sitting now across from Mr. Gold, tired. He was fiddling with his hands. He didn't seem to sit well, sit still that was, but he insisted on sitting, on staying when the others had asked if he wanted to go to the town with them. He never said much of anything, she decided, also, only when it suited him, but when he said anything, she listened. She liked the lilt in his voice, the slight warm accent there, familiar and enchanting.

She spoke to him again, "Mr. Gold, do you have another name?"

He seemed startled by that question. Her other questions hadn't really amused him. She asked if he had a job back in the town. When he'd replied yes she had had to pry further. She had asked if he knew of her father, and when he grudgingly replied yes, she had demanded answers. He was evasive, telling her that yes he was alive; but that he thought that she was dead. The whole town had thought that she had died years ago- it all made sense now, why her father had never tried to save her, why the woman in black had ever been her only visitor. Something else had bothered her in the stone cell, but, she could not remember.

"I do have another name," he stated plainly, amiably.

"What is it?" she wondered, leaning in and resting her elbow on the table, her chin in her hand.

Pain etched across his face, as it did when she asked some questions. Her questions on horseless carriages, automobiles, had had little effect on him, as had the questions about girls in breeches and slicing their hair short like a boy, about fake glass, or _plastic_ as she was supposed to call it. Ones that pained him were ones that pertained to her father, or questions about how she knew him. He never answered the latter, even when she had tried to weasel it out from him.

"I promise I won't laugh," she vowed. He said nothing still, and she thought to herself, twisting her mouth ruefully, "Well, would you tell me if I guessed it?"

He looked at her in pleasant surprise. "I will tell you if you guess it right."

She grinned at that, and spouted out names. To all of them he told her no, or shook his head. She made an exasperated face after he said, "No, and you already asked me that one."

"Well, maybe I'll start to make lists. Have you pen and paper?" she queried.

"Not handy, no," he said, leaning back in his chair.

She sighed, leaning on her hand again, and started off afresh, "Well, how about Umberto or Klaus?"

"Umberto?" he scoffed, "Do I look like an Umberto?"

"Well, I'm running out of options," she pointed out frustrated.

"But Umberto?" his eyes danced. She blinked in realization. He was teasing her. She smiled at that.

"Yes, why not?" she played along, "Umberto Gold."

"Oh please spare me the agony, my dear," he said, clutching his heart as though it were paining him, "I don't need any more of that."

"Obviously you aren't teased enough. We'll have to toughen you up," she said determinedly, taking on the challenge, and then continued on her quest. "Leopold? Oswald? Wilfred?"

"No to all," he groaned, making a pained face.

"Wilfred Gold? I can see it," she tried to keep herself from giggling.

"Please, no more," he smiled widely. "I think Oswald is my limit for today." She had made him smile. It was a start at least.

"Can I start anew tomorrow then?" she asked, intrigued by this new game, "They'll be better next time, I promise."

"Better than Umberto and Oswald, I hope," he stared at her, and stopped. She studied his eyes, their dark depths as he studied hers. His face was so familiar… like he had been in her dreams…

"Your skin is different," she said, curiously, and paused, sitting up straight.

His eyes widened, "What did you say?"

"Your skin…," she about repeated, and then stopped herself. What was she saying? "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that," she shook her head, standing up, away from the table. A passing memory. It was so frustrating not being able to remember. She looked out over the sink through the window into the twilight. "I must seem very strange to you," she whispered to the window.

"Don't flatter yourself, my dear," he ridiculed, "Strange things in this town happen all the time."

She considered that, thinking of the town as she had run through it with little Henry. She remembered something about last night, something that had caught her off guard, had made her remember momentarily… "Why did you call me Belle?" she asked him, turning pointedly to him.

He stiffened in his seat, shifting back, "I don't recall-."

But he did recall. She could tell that he recalled. She reminded him anyways, "Last night you saw me in the street. You called me Belle."

"It's your name," he shrugged, trying to pretend as though it weren't important. It was important though. She knew it was.

"Everyone else is calling me Isabelle," she reminded him, "That is my name, isn't it?" For some reason she didn't feel so sure, touching a hand to her head.

"An abbreviation," he said reluctantly, "That is all. I could call you Isabelle from now on if you like."

"No," she faced the window again, watching day fade to night, hand supporting her as she leaned over the sink, trying to take the weight off of her aching feet, "I like that you call me Belle. You never have called me Isabelle." Even though she didn't know why, she knew it was true. She sighed. How odd to hear such words come out of her own mouth.

She went and sat back at the table, restless. "I don't know why, Mr. Gold, but I feel like I've known you…" he was gazing at her as though she were crazy. She had had enough of that for a lifetime. "You knew me too, I know you did. Else you wouldn't have come up with a nickname for me."

She thought she had him there, but he smiled at her, impish almost. "We're barely even friends, my dear. How could I have come up with a nickname for you?"

"Maybe we weren't friends though," Isabelle invented, "Maybe we were enemies."

"Maybe," he grinned mischievously, but it didn't reach his eyes. "On one occasion you even threatened to take my power."

A clue! She was getting more out of him now. "Arch nemeses then?" Isabelle wondered, leaning towards him across the table, "Did we duel?"

"You read too much," he teased, sitting back in his chair.

"There!" she exclaimed, standing and pointing at him, a spasm of pain distracting her as her feet stung sharply.

"What?" he looked down at his chest as though she'd poked him, examining it for a mark.

"You know that I love to read," she accused, her eyes narrow but her smile wide. She'd caught him in the act. He would have to tell her now.

"It's obvious," he said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"How so?" she posed.

"There's an ink smudge on your nose," he leaned forward, examining her face, and she felt herself blush at the intent stare, "And I'm positive it's from having it in a book."

"I haven't read a single thing since I've been here," she promptly informed him, before sitting back down, feeling as though he'd defeated her this round. At this rate he was never going to tell her. She reminisced about reading, saying aloud, "I haven't read anything in years."

Anger flashed dangerously across his face, but it wasn't at her. She'd seen him angry at her… He was livid though, and then, look of agony, before he bent his head away from her. "We'll have to remedy that, won't we?" he sounded tortured almost. She couldn't bear it. She didn't know what to say, was about to reach over and touch his shoulder.

There was a knock at the door, interrupting her memory. Isabelle stood gently, gingerly on her feet, and answered it.

Mary Margret entered, holding large brown paper bags, David just behind her, "We're back!" she smiled as she came in.

"Welcome," Isabelle half curtseyed as she closed the door behind them, "How was your journey?" She was more curious about what was in the brown paper bags that Mary Margret was placing on the table. Food stuffs, Isabelle realized.

"We ran into Sydney Glass," David said, sounding somewhat bitter, putting his load down as well.

"Hmm?" Emma, blurry eyed and looking still exhausted, sat up at the commotion. "What did he want?"

"To talk to you I think," Mary Margret stared at the task in front of her, taking things out of the paper bag. Isabelle wondered if she was alright, and began to help. She had already learned where most of the things went in the house, through curiosity and examination. She found herself placing odd cartons of milk into the ice box, along with eggs and an orange looking elixir. She looked to Mr. Gold when she wasn't certain, pointing at wherever she thought that things went. He would give a brief nod, and continue listening as David retold what had happened at the grocery store.

"Weird, he didn't call me. He has my number," Emma decided, checking a small metallic and glass device. Isabelle's curiosity was peaked, looking over Emma's shoulder. Emma looked at her in a "What are you doing?" way, but Isabelle paid little heed. If she was going to figure out how all this new magic worked she was going to have to do some exploration. "It's a cell phone. You probably haven't seen one of these."

"What does it do?" Isabelle wondered aloud.

"It lets you talk to other people when they're far away," Emma looked to Mary Margret and David as though she needed their approval.

"Here," David said, pulling out his own device. It was different from Emma's. "I'll demonstrate."

Isabelle went immediately over to David to see what he was doing. There were numbers on his phone, and not so much glass. He pushed in numbers, and put the device to his ear.

A noise in the room startled her. Mary Margret pulled a third device from her own pocket, smiling at David, and put the device to her ear as the music stopped. "Hello?" she said with a grin. David handed Isabelle the phone, which she put to her ear.

"Hello?" she spoke into it. She felt odd.

"Hi Isabelle." Isabelle heard both Mary Margret through the device as well as in the room.

"Amazing! How far can you speak to one another with it?" she looked at them each in turn, all of them with smiles on their faces.

"As far as we want," Mary Margret answered, and Isabelle was delighted to hear the voice in her ear again.

"So, if I go in here," Isabelle walked to her bedroom door, and closed it behind her. She heard the others in the room laugh mutedly, but Mary Margret's laugh was right in her ear. Isabelle opened the door, "Magic!" she exclaimed. "How does it work?"

As Mary Margret got to work on the dinner, David explained about things in space, a place above the sky, caught signals that were given out by cell phones, bouncing them back to earth to the person who wanted to hear them. All the while Isabelle watched Mary Margret work closely. The stove top was of particular interest to her. It got heat the same way the ice box stayed cold- electricity. Electricity seemed to be the magic of this new place.

Isabelle had long since decided that this was indeed a different place. Outside she had seen no trace of fairies, or any other creatures really besides possibly a deer. There were so many different things about this place, and her first clue should have been the difference between the stone room and the white walled room, but how was it possible that all these things were different and yet her father was still in it according to Mr. Gold? It was confusing to her. She wished she had answers.

Dinner was pleasant. Mary Margret and David were so much in love she was fond of watching them both as they glanced, smiling secretly. Love always had been another mystery to be uncovered she thought, and she thought the pair were doing this quite beautifully. Mr. Gold didn't say much, but she had expected that. What she didn't understand was Emma and her glowers she shot Mr. Gold. Well, maybe they were rivals of some sort? But they didn't seem to hate each other so terribly much, and they both seemingly wanted to help her.

It was her turn to watch Mr. Gold, since he did not watch her at all through dinner. She liked the sharpness of his nose, she decided, and wondered yet again why his skin seemed different, how his eyes used to be a different shade, more ghostly green than dark wells. And then to her fury she would try desperately to remember where on Earth she had seen him. She saw him flicker glances at her through the corner of his eye, but that was it. He seemed to not notice her. Isabelle decided that it was Emma, glowering at him all the time. She wondered why Emma's presence set him more on guard, and why he set her more on guard.

Isabelle retired when both Mary Margret and Emma insisted. Her eyelids were drooping as she attempted to do the dishes, and her mind was exhausted from trying to work out the kinks in her brain. Her body was going limp too. Moving so much in these last two days had been wonderful, but her muscles were weak from disuse. She barely remembered changing into night things, and slipping into bed. What she did remember was Mr. Gold shutting the door softly, an intent look on his face. She smiled at him, as though assuring him, though she didn't know what for.

She curled up with the luxurious pillows, there were two, and began to dream easily, letting her conscious mind slip away.

She woke suddenly to a noise outside the house. She would have let it drop if it had not happened again. She wondered sleepily if it was Henry trying to get into the cabin. She smiled, slipping off of the bed, her feet burning more keenly than they had the day before as she stepped quietly out of her bedroom.

Emma was nowhere to be seen. Mary Margret and David were asleep in odd bags on the floor of the living room, facing one another as they slept. She would have to ask what those odd bags were when the hour wasn't so late.

Mr. Gold was sleeping too, his head back against the wall, just outside of her door. She wanted to touch his face, but withdrew the urge and simply continued on to the back door to see if there was someone there. Just then a short rattling came to the front door.

Maybe Henry had already tried to get in the back, but had found that Mr. Gold had dead bolted it this time, and was trying to get in through the front. She shook her head at the silly impatient boy. It wasn't even close to dawn yet, she thought as she undid the dead bolt and withdrew the chain.

She opened the door, expecting to see Henry's smiling face.

No one was there.

Had Henry run to try the back door again? She peered around, stepping outside, hearing the door creak as it half closed behind her. She winced as the creak grew louder. She didn't want to wake anyone up.

"Henry?" she whispered into the night, tip toeing to peer around the cabin.

"Not exactly," answered a voice behind her. A voice she knew. A voice that sent fear shooting through her, crippling her. She stumbled forward, feebly trying to escape just as her knees gave way.

The cackle behind her made her press her hands over her ears. "No," she breathed, closing her eyes, dread filling her gut.

**A/N: Another cliff hanger. This one is much better, isn't it? **

** Thank you again for such kind reviews. I just love you all- because you all are kind, and sweet and AMAZING! I hope you all have a good day! :D**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: We're going to back up a bit. So this starts off when Isabelle went to bed. And… well, Emma, is… Emma. And off we go! **

Chapter 12

~: Emma :~

Her face was steely enough that both David and Mary Margret had decided simultaneously that they would go on a walk, since they weren't tired. They couldn't really feign sleep at seven in the evening. At the same time. It didn't matter. The less the merrier. If this conversation was going to be merry at all.

Mr. Gold was shutting the door to Isabelle's room. Emma was waiting, folded arms and a scowl ready and waiting for him as he turned around.

As he spotted her, he rolled his eyes. That only made her more furious.

"You're a creep, you know that?" she accused.

He continued past her and went for the sink, pushing up his sleeves and leaving his cane resting against the cabinets, "You're one to talk, Sheriff Swan."

She blinked in confusion. He turned on the tap and started where Isabelle had left off. "What?" her voice turned metallic again, "I don't go following people around half my age."

Mr. Gold looked over his shoulder, "Then what is Henry?"

"He's my son! Isabelle is- I don't know what she is to you, but I know for sure that she isn't your daughter," she yelled furiously, sparks flying. He was baiting her, she realized, trying to get her off topic. It took her a split second to remember why she had started this conversation, feeling malicious she persisted, "She has one of those already. You put him in the hospital, remember?"

"I do recall that vaguely, yes," he was facing the sink, so she couldn't read his expression. "I think I spent a night or two in jail for it."

She ignored his last bit of flippancy, and pushed further, "You have to tell her."

"And I will."

She made to retaliate, "Or I- you _what_?" She realized half a moment too late that he had responded with the answer she wanted- well, not the answer she wanted but the answer that she hadn't expected. The right answer.

"I will tell her that I put her father in the hospital," he clarified for her, picking up the sponge Isabelle had put down, and began scrubbing away at dishes, leaning on his good leg. "I have to."

"Yes, but-," she stuttered, trying to make sense. He had agreed. He had agreed without a fight. It didn't make sense. In her mind she had seen him refusing, and saying that he wasn't going to ruin this. Whatever "this" was, she thought furiously, so when he said, "I will" it left her floundering. "But- but- _why_?"

"I do not plan on keeping secrets this time, Ms. Swan," his voice sounded thick and muted over the sound of the water running. He poured on more soap.

"'This time'?" she repeated. What was that supposed to mean?

He disregarded her question, starting on a fresh pan, "However, I will do it in my own time."

There. She found the steeled anger again that had been doused with surprise a moment ago, "You and your own time can -."

"Won't you at least grant me this?" he turned, shouting at her, shocking her into silence. His voice was ragged and he was breathing heavily. When she said nothing, he bent his head, "I will tell her within the week."

He faced his task again, his back rigid, and his arms moved more mechanically. Within a week. Within a week? What was going on? How come he was being so compliant?

"You're telling her? But why?" she wondered aloud.

"Is that any of your concern, Ms. Swan?" No, it wasn't, but the muffled fury there was enough to want to start it up again. She opened her mouth, but he spoke, his tone miserable, "Now if you please, leave me in peace."

All of her pent up aggression, the extra wall she'd built just for this fight were wasted. Entirely wasted. All she wanted now was to pick a fight. "Well, fine." Maybe she would take a drive. Maybe she would break another toaster. She wouldn't buy Mr. Gold a new one.

Destroying the man's appliances wouldn't do anything. She would drive.

She slammed the door on her way out, realizing a split second later that the noise had probably woken Isabelle. A twinge of guilt now added to her temper as she stalked into the night, her keys rattling.

~: Mr. Gold :~

It was nearing midnight. Mary Margret and David had eventually come back and all had fallen asleep. Emma was still missing, probably still venting her rage on her poor automobile. He had enjoyed ruining her fun. She was a fighter, who was in need of a good fight. If she'd wait around a bit her Majesty was sure to have one. He didn't mind her absence though. He did not need her interrupting his thoughts… thoughts she herself had given him.

The lovely Sheriff had given him a dead line.

It was well enough. He needed it.

If he didn't tell her soon, there were chances that she would remember. She was remembering so much already. It was painful, and yet blissful at the same time, to have her so near. He hadn't expected that. He hadn't expected it to be so convoluted. Of course, he hadn't really expected it at all. She had been dead… And now? Her life was so precious to him now. Worth more than all the gold in his vaults at Dark Castle, more than the worth of all the souls he had corrupted.

It was all for not. She would leave… She would leave him because there was no way he could make her stay. He had nothing to offer, nothing to persuade her with.

When she remembered, she would hate him. It would be much more excruciating when she did if it were on her terms, left because she would remember that he was a coward, a liar, a _monster_. Nothing had changed in Storybrooke except now he had no magic. He was as malicious as ever, more so, ever since she had left… had gone…

He was in love with her. He always had been. He could not bear thinking about it. He could not bear even imagining her departure once more due to their past memories. He would tell her how he tortured her father, send her away quickly… Before the pain grew…

Again, he was taking the coward's way out. He was always the coward. She would not be brave enough to kiss him again when she remembered how cowardly he truly was. She would loathe him. If he told her soon about her father than she would leave. It would be easier. Easier for him. His terms. His time. His place. Less pain…

Every moment was a moment that everything could come flooding back to her. Every second she was with him was something else she put together. Her mind worked so quickly. She was learning about refrigerators and cell phones in the amount of time it had taken him to figure out how to flip on a switch to light his house.

But every moment was a fresh opportunity to capture her expressions, remind himself of the illumination that lit the room when she smiled, breathe in her light. Her conversation, the way she spoke, everything was a new instant to drink in. He basked in her warmth. She was as curious as ever, as prying as ever, trying to make him say things that he did not wish to say, which, like before, had worked. She walked around to help when her feet were still healing. She smiled at him, smiled, when he did not deserve it. When she was with him he couldn't bear to even begin telling her, couldn't imagine bringing that look of desolation on her face. He did not know how he would do this.

He was a coward.

He laid his head back against the wall, exhausted. He hadn't slept in too long, but the constant war had kept him awake, tense, irrational and angry. Now it was ceasing. He had a deadline. He would keep it.

Belle would be gone from him in a week. He shut his eyes from the wracking torment that the sentence brought him, but the agony was internal, tearing at him.

At least she would be alive. He would speak with her Majesty before she concocted any of her ridiculous plans, tell her to keep away from Belle always. And then she,… Belle would be safe, with her father, farther away from him as she could manage. He might see her in the streets sometimes… and that was enough, if it meant her happiness. He was going to let her go… he had to…

She'd be gone forever. She wouldn't come back this time. It would be his fault…

_All his fault_.

~: Henry :~

Henry peddled for all his worth.

The Evil Queen had left the house at two in the morning. He knew it meant nothing good. He had to make sure that Belle was safe, that Rumpelstiltskin knew what was coming. Henry was sure the Evil Queen was coming for her.

He'd booby trapped her door, placing one of his few toys in front of her room after she had "gone to bed." She had kicked it when she was trying to creep out. He woke up, had heard her leave, and seen the car drive away out of his window, tugging on a jacket and a pair of shoes before he bolted for the door. She had a car. All he had was his red bicycle that he had gotten as a bribe from the Evil Queen. He would just have to make the most of it.

Besides, he was sure that she wasn't going on her own. She had called someone on her way out to the drive way. His disadvantage was that he didn't know who it was, but at least she would be picking someone up. It would take more time.

He saw the path that led up to the cabin. He felt hope rising in his chest at how far he'd come in only fifteen minutes, but knew he would have to run from there. He tossed his bike to the side, bursting into a run towards the tree line. _His P.E. teacher would be proud_, he thought as he panted through the dark trees, pulling the flashlight from his pocket and turning it on. But he didn't have time to think about his P.E. teacher now. He concentrated on getting up there as fast as he could. Belle's life could be in danger, and if that was true, then the curse itself would never be broken. Henry had a theory about how to break the curse. _True love's kiss can break any curse,_ he remembered from the story with a smile.

He sprinted up the dark path, hoping with all his might that he wasn't too late.

~: Mr. Gold :~

Mr. Gold heard the door open with its familiar creak. Groggily out of the corner of his mind he knew that the sound was wrong, but he couldn't make himself remember why. He rocked his head back and forth on the wall when the creak happened again, groaning slightly. He always had been a light sleeper. He let it go, falling back into his dreamless sleep.

A sharp, piercing scream jolted him aware, cut too short.

Immediately he looked to Belle's door.

It was ajar.

Leaping to his feet, Mr. Gold cursed his lame leg, cursed the war that had caused it, cursed her Majesty for letting it exist in this world, for now as he tried to run to her his knee would not function. He almost fell over, grasping the table to keep him upright, before making for the door.

"Regina!" he shouted, slamming the door all the way open.

The car was peeling away- Belle was struggling around, giving a henchman a bruised jaw as she whacked her tied fists into his face, a rag covering her mouth. She looked back at him through the window-

"_No_," he breathed in horror.

Headlights flooded into view. A yellow bug swerved into view, blocking the escape route of the sleek black car, parking sideways.

Emma – the white knight – had come at the opportune moment, stopping her Majesty dead before she crashed.

Belle took the chance, flinging the car door open, falling out of it, landing the mud from yesterday's rain, the minion scrambling after her as she slipped again trying to get up. Mr. Gold rushed forward, hand outstretched.

"Let her go!" he demanded, half running to get closer, "_Please_!"

Regina, who was sitting in the driver's seat, obviously heard. He saw her hunch her shoulders. He could picture her mouth tightening. The henchman was dragging her upright, Belle landed a well aimed kick on her captive's jaw, and the man retaliated. He made to hurl his fist into her head, letting her fall back down. She covered her head with her hands-

"_Don't you dare_," Rumpelstiltskin snarled, stopping, and he felt magic spark at his fingertips, staying the henchman's hand and wrenching his arm backwards, pitching him ten feet from her. More shocked that the henchman, Mr. Gold felt the magic fade as quickly as it had flown through him. He heard Regina gasp, saw the look of unadulterated bewilderment in Belle's wide blue eyes.

"Regina, leave, now, please," Mr. Gold managed to be more specific through his terror, controlling his voice into a growl. "Take your accomplice with you."

She paused, trying to fight what she had been told to do, when she finally broke under the compulsion. "Get in the car," Regina's voice was venomous.

"What?" the idiot frowned, had regained his footing, and had been waiting for his next move. Now he was looking at Regina in complete shock.

"Just do it," she spat impatiently. "Now!"

The minion did as he was told, stalking over to the car. _Well trained minion_, he acknowledged heatedly.

"Wait!" Mr. Gold barked, and the man stopped in his tracks. He looked to Belle, who was still inching her way to kneeling. "Help her up."

"What?" the idiot was incredulous, staring at him in utter disbelief, eyes flashing.

"Help her up, _please_," his voice was full of fury, his own eyes ablaze.

"Do as he says," Regina ordered, her hands tightening into claws around the steering wheel.

The henchman helped Belle to her feet, roughly by an arm. She pulled away from him instantly, tearing off the rag that bound her mouth, tossing it to the ground at his feet, running immediately to Mr. Gold's side.

He caught her up in his arms, stumbling a step backwards at the force of her impact, pain jabbing in his leg, but she was there, in his arms, gasping her panic into his throat. He pulled her closer, stroking her hair, too quickly to be calming her, but more for his own reassurance that she was truly there. He still stared at her Majesty who was watching him with pure loathing through the rear view mirror.

"Now," his voice shook, a hard mixture of rage and relief, "You will take your minion and get off of my property, and you will stay off of my property." The last word sliced through the air, a last word to an incantation, "Please."

"Wait a second," Emma shouted, from her car, finally managing to have rolled down the passenger's side window, "What's going on?"

"What's happened?" Mary Margret stood in the doorway, David at her heels. Too late, but they wouldn't have been useful in this situation anyways. He had it under control now. Regina shouldn't have come herself. He had irrefutable power over her in this world as long as she was in ear shot.

"Let them go, Ms. Swan," he pacified, "They've done enough damage for one night."

Belle had started to cry silently, he realized, as the henchman shut the car door after he got in, shaking with it. He only clung to her tighter, hearing Her Majesty put the car into gear and waited as Emma pulled away from the middle of the road, letting them pass. Regina's tires squealing on the gravel, they were gone from sight into the black night.

"Dearest they're gone now," he whispered, but she only clutched his button up shirt. He felt the tears hot on his skin as they spilled off of her face. "They're gone."

Her crying became earnest then, struggling to get the bindings off of her wrists. Her hands shook too much. He stayed them, helping her undo the thin cords until she was free. They fell at their feet, and her free arms wrapped around him. He could only hold her, whispering softly in her ear of better times, of times of streaming sunlight and large libraries, of cleaning castles and tea times. He spoke unthinkingly, the words flowing freely as she nuzzled closer to his neck.

"What just happened?" Emma's voice commanded everyone's attention. "Did Regina just get away from an assault charge?"

"They were kidnapping her," Mary Margret whispered, awfulness lacing her voice. "Oh, Isabelle-," she paused, "I think we need to get her inside," Mary Margret said, concern taking over.

Mr. Gold nodded silently, and ushered for Mary Margret to lead the way.

"I'm going to pick you up," he told her then, and he felt her responding nod. He swung her into his arms, the pain in his leg enough to make him stagger slightly, but, she was lighter than she had been, if the decades hadn't completely faded his memory, which they hadn't. Emma made to take her, but he merely walked past her. He hobbled to the door, one foot in front of the other, and set her down gently on the couch. Mary Margret was instantly there, pulling a blanket over Belle as Mr. Gold drew up a chair besides her

"Here," Emma handed Belle a fast food restaurant cup with a lid and a straw, "Drink this."

Belle looked at the thing in confusion, before Mr. Gold pulled the lid off and handed it to her. She took a sip, and spat it back into the cup, choking. Mr. Gold looked furiously at Emma, who explained, "It's just Dr. Pepper- she needs some sugar in her system. Hurry up, drink it."

Belle swallowed her first gulp of soda with a shudder. And then continued, everyone watching her finish off the last swig.

"Can't believe she's never had soda before," Emma muttered under her breathe, moving to put the glass in the sink as Mary Margret put a few pillows behind Belle to prop her up.

"They- they were coming to get me- the woman in black- she- she exists in both places too- I had forgotten… how does she exist in both places? And the man, the Black Knight- he- he- him too," her words were jumbling together, and Mary Margret cooed at her to calm down.

He rocked back on his feet. _Both places_- the ache was keener than he would have believed. She was remembering that there were two places, not just the one. She remembered the Black Knight, the henchman- he should have remembered who he was too, he just hadn't cared.

"How did you get her to let her go like that?" David asked in Mr. Gold disbelief, standing behind Mary Margret. "I didn't think Regina listened to anyone, you didn't even have your gun- how did you do it?"

"It's a simple matter of wording," Mr. Gold said, his voice brittle, o_h, and not to mention that I have a contract with her._ "It's amazing what the power of a little word will do." What he couldn't believe was the magic- the magic had come back to him, channeled its way through him, like in the past. He looked at his hand again in disbelief, clenching and unclenching it.

Someone burst through the open front door, Mr. Gold tensing, standing abruptly as a voice declared, "Regina is coming!"

It was Henry, panting, sweat pouring off of his brow with his brown hair sticking to it. Mr. Gold relaxed, a little irritated at his own paranoia. He had just ordered her off his property. She could not rightly enough come back now.

"Henry?"

"Kid?"

Mary Margret and Emma both spoke simultaneously in surprise.

"We have, to get, her safe," Henry told them through his inhaling.

"You're a little late, Paul Revere," Mr. Gold snorted at the boy.

**A/N: One by land and two by sea, Regina is coming Regina is coming- haha, I couldn't resist… **

** Thank you again for the reviews- what'd you think? **


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: You guys! The reviews were amazing- you all are phenomenal. The last chapter must've been way good- hehe! Thank you for being so kind again- yes. You! You're kind! XD Thank you! Have fun reading! Oh! And Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss! **

Chapter 13

~: Isabelle :~

She was restless, her mind too active to be anywhere near sleep, and she didn't think it was because of the recent attempt to capture her, because she was sure that would have left her exhausted. No, she thought that it might be in the drink that Emma had given her. She kept fiddling with the blanket, kept twitching her toes as Mr. Gold explained what had happened to them, Emma asking questions about everything so Mr. Gold couldn't even get out a coherent sentence. She couldn't sit still, rotating, sitting up, being forced to lay back down by Mary Margret. Her brain was on overdrive, replaying everything that had happened, so she wasn't expecting what happened next.

The flash back was sudden, and very potent.

_ She had been crying. Her eyes ached with that familiar many tears have been shed feeling, but she was still walking, running from the source of her heartache, pretending distance could make a difference, clutching at her cloak to pull it closer around her. The cold had never been so biting before, maybe because the ice has seeped all the way into her chest. Her dress was muddy from misuse, having slept in a ditch, or having tried to sleep. But the ache, the sorrow was too much to bear. She couldn't sleep. So she pressed onward along the road, night thick with clouds that blocked out all the stars. _

_ She heard the horses long before they came, and veered off to the side of the road. They were going to be galloping by, by the sound of it. She turned to watch them streak by, coming around the bend in the road, all dressed in black holding torches. She should have remembered then to run._

_ They had chased her when she had dived into the forest, surrounded her when she'd tripped and fallen. When she had made to get past the horses a face had leered at her, his torch casting odd shadows across his face. "So you're the one who fell in love with the Beast." Men around them chuckled as she stumbled backwards from him, fresh tears forming in her eyes as her heart cried out in anguish._

_ "Don't call him that!" she yelled, stumbling away from him, but her voice broke, and they only laughed, harsh, cruel, echoing, the man in front of her the worst of them all, his eyes filled with disgusting delight. _

_This man was from the caravan earlier, the precession that had held the woman in black, telling her that she could fix something- something very important to her. The woman had lied, used her to hurt- hurt… _

_ "Please," she begged, "Let me pass- all I want to do is go home to my papa." _

_ "Well, in that case," sneered the man, and clicked his horse to one side. She looked up at him, at all of them, warily, before breaking away, trying to make a run for it. The man picked her up off her feet and slung her over the horse before she was three steps past him. "You'll never see your papa again," he swore. She remembered her scream of terror, flailing to escape, before she had been knocked unconscious. _

"Isabelle." It was Henry, staring at her, shaking her shoulders. "You alright?"

Her mind focused again, on him, and on Mr. Gold, who was holding back an expression. There was a tell twitching at the corner of his mouth, and there was nothing he could hide from her in his eyes. His eyes that were the wrong color. But how? "Henry," she spoke to him, earnest, staring into the boy's eyes expectantly, "How are they in both places?"

He looked to Mr. Gold, whose face was impassive, and sighed, letting go of her shoulders. "I can't tell you."

"But- how can it be? How can I be? I don't understand," she shook her head, pressing one of her hands to her head. "It was the Black Knight- the Black Knight was trying to take me- it was him, I promise I'm not making this up."

"The Black Knight- I was wondering where he was," Henry said thoughtfully. "He tried to kidnap Snow White once. But don't worry. Mr. Gold saved you." Henry grinned at Mr. Gold proudly, "He's got this magic word, you see-."

"That's enough," Mr. Gold snapped sharply.

She stared up at Mr. Gold then. All he'd had to say were a few words, and she had been free. Free and safe, and she'd run right into his arms because it had felt- she blushed at the memory, having been so forward, looking away from him, his growl echoing in her mind, "_Don't you dare._" She felt her skin tingle at the thought, feeling once more impossibly safe, just like she had felt when he'd caught her.

"What I want to know is how she found us up here," Emma inquired from behind the couch somewhere, her arms wound tight over her chest. "I'm pretty sure we didn't advertise."

"It's the second place I would have guessed," Henry said automatically, "If she wasn't at Mr. Gold's house then she'd be up here, right?"

"Why would she be with Mr. Gold?" Emma demanded crossly.

"Um," Henry bit his lip, and winced.

"You ran into Sydney Glass," Mr. Gold said, hands folded over his cane, looking pointedly at Mary Margret. "He must have followed you back up here."

"Sydney Glass is on our side now," Emma retorted.

Mr. Gold shook his head, a dark, thin smile that read, _you know nothing_, on his lips. Emma didn't like that.

"He went down with me for a false accusation," Emma exclaimed, as though the sentence proved the point.

"I don't care what he did, he is not about to betray Regina," Mr. Gold told her amiably, "He's in love with her. Has been for years."

"He's what?" Henry made a grossed out face. "Why?"

"Love is different for everyone," Isabelle spoke to him pleasantly, gently patting his hair. She was too tired for it now, the flash back seemingly having drained her twitchiness, but she planned on getting out of Henry whatever he couldn't say in front of Mr. Gold. He had answers, Isabelle could see it. She would just have to ask more persistently, since obviously Mr. Gold was not about to give anything away.

They argued over her head for a while, first about Sydney Glass's true character, and then what to do about Isabelle's situation, Henry and Isabelle mainly listening as the conversation progressed. Isabelle sat uncomfortably as the topic changed on where to hide her next.

"Isabelle is welcome to come stay with us," Mary Margret interjected between the oncoming fight between Emma and Mr. Gold, "There is plenty of room-."

"Thank you kindly, Miss Blanchard," Mr. Gold interrupted. "But I hardly doubt we could squeeze another person into that apartment of yours."

Emma looked ready to hurl things at him, "She is not going to be living with you while I am still Sheriff!"

"Isn't this my decision?" Isabelle wondered aloud.

Both Mr. Gold and Emma stopped, both turning their glowering faces to her. She swallowed, and then continued, "If I'm diagnosed as a sane person by Doctor Archie Hopper, aren't I allowed to decide to do what I want?"

Both still seemed taken aback.

"I want to see Papa when I know it's safe," she stated, "I'll probably live with him for a while, because I haven't seen him in so long, and I've missed him so much."

"Your father signed you up for that dungeon, and you want to go back to him?" Emma was in a state as it was, and Isabelle, though furious about her accusation, did not want to argue with her. Emma was in the mood for arguing, and against that sort of will power, Isabelle was positive that she would not win.

"No," Isabelle sighed, "He didn't. But, I know it says that on the paperwork, so it must seem true to you." She didn't know how else to explain it, for she knew better than anyone the love of believing the written word. She went on, "I want to live with Papa, when I know he'll be safe, and when I know that she won't come for us."

"But Isabelle," Henry seemed unnerved by the idea, "you can stay with my mom. She's tough, and Miss Blanchard is a great cook, and a good teacher." When he saw that that wasn't going to work, he moved on to the next option, "And with Mr. Gold you can be safe no matter what Regina does. He'll protect you too. Your dad-." Henry faltered.

She knew what he was thinking, knew that no one trusted her father to protect her because he wasn't powerful in their town. But that wasn't important. No, she needed to be there for him, "My papa needs me, Henry. Surely you understand that," she smiled encouragingly.

"Well yeah, but-."

"It'll be alright, you'll see," she promised. He made a face, looking away.

"But in the time being," Mr. Gold inserted, "She can stay here. It is perfectly safe, now, I promise."

"Yeah it will be," Emma said determinedly, "I'm going to set up a friggin' perimeter around this place. Video cameras, the works. Next time Regina comes back up here trying to kidnap someone, she'll be behind bars so fast she won't know what hit her."

"Speaking of Regina," Mr. Gold planted his feet firmly, his voice almost idle, "Don't you think she'll be a bit miffed when she finds you missing from your bed, young man?" He looked at Henry, who made a gasp of realization, while his mother swore. Isabelle blinked, surprised at the woman, who in turn picked up Henry's back pack he'd let topple to the floor.

"We have to get you home," Emma told Henry, throwing her back pack over her shoulder, "Come on, kid."

"I guess I'll see you later," Henry asked sheepishly, standing up from where he'd been kneeling beside her.

"Yes," Isabelle nodded at him, shooing him away, "Hurry, quick!"

"He's a good kid," David said as the door slammed shut behind the pair.

"A mischievous lad indeed," Mr. Gold murmured for no one's ears. Isabelle looked up at him, and smiled, trying to find his emotion. His gaze fixed on hers. She was surprised to read the fear still there, old fear and new fear. Pain also, and yet such relief that her heart could not comprehend, making it miss a beat. Relieved. Relieved that she was now safe. He'd been worried about it this entire time, and now, that worry was gone. He'd fixed it somehow. Reassured, she tried to peer deeper.

"We should get you to bed," Mary Margret said, taking Henry's place. Isabelle lost her train of thought, nodding.

"Oh," she added as Mary Margret helped her to stand, spotting the oddly crumpled blanket bags near pillows, obviously discarded in haste, "What are those things you were sleeping in?"

~: Regina :~

Regina drove with her elbows locked, arms straight, shoulders hunched. He had foiled her again. Again! With his mere word. Please. He said please and she had to do everything he told her, everything he said. She hated it. She hated him. He was going to find his happily ever after again. One more key to unlocking the curse. This was getting out of hand.

"Why did you let her go?" the idiot in her car demanded angrily.

She didn't need to explain herself to this peasant, "Ask me that one more time and you're going to be walking from here."

"Fine, just tell me why!" he shouted.

Regina swerved the car so hugely she almost ran into a tree. She screeched to a stop, "Out!"

He scowled at her, but got out of the car. Regina drove away without so much as a backward glance.

And Emma Swan had shown up as though planned. Nothing like that was supposed to happen in this world. In this world she was supposed to get away, was supposed to be able to snatch someone without a trace. This world was not meant for anyone's happily ever after other than hers, where she could watch everyone be in as much misery as she had been for so long. Ever since Snow White had ruined everything, everything. The little pest hadn't been able to keep her mouth shut!

She stopped at a stop sign, and sat there, idling, her arms still straight, her gaze fixed ahead of her.

No, she would not think of this again. Not again. It was too painful tonight. Not after everything, all the plans she had made to persuade Rumpelstiltskin to be on her side when the final war came, and it was coming, as surely as the night was black. The signs, the arrival of Emma, the clock tower starting, the reawaking of Prince James, the awful, awful things that she had tried to prevent in every way possible. Everything was crumbling around her ears.

Rumpelstiltskin on her side had been her trump card, and Belle? The stupid girl child that he had fallen in love with? She had been what would have persuaded him. And now? Now she had to get her back, at all costs. However, the curse would prevent her from stepping on his property. Her lip curled when she realized what that could mean. Every time she walked into a place that he owned she would be compelled out of it, or would pass out trying to resist the urge. Motion sickness was the first symptom, and then the headache- the lance that cut off her breathing was the final step, and she would go unconscious.

She would have to test it, she decided, now, before anyone knew.

Peeling away from the stop sign, she rounded a corner. She would test the first business she knew he owned through someone else, and see, even if it meant no sleep.

~: Mary Margret :~

The night before had given her a head ache. She hadn't really gotten headaches until she'd given Henry the book, and now she was getting them all the time. The worst one had been when David, then known as John Doe, had gone missing, and she had revived him, but she hadn't paid attention to it until afterwards.

Now she had woken up with a head ache to find Isabelle already awake, perched on the counter top, staring into the world outside the kitchen window.

"Where are the others?" Mary Margret asked groggily, shuffling forward in her pajamas. By others, all she really wanted to know was if David had left, or if he was out walking. He liked to walk, especially in the morning.

Isabelle seemed distracted, her mind off somewhere in the distance as rays of sunlight illuminated her, "They left- I think they went to get Doctor Archie Hopper."

Mary Margret smiled as Isabelle said his name and title out loud, as though it'd be rude to say otherwise, at the same time thinking about how pretty Isabelle was. She went for the milk in the fridge, "Is Mr. Gold still asleep?"

"No," Isabelle said, still not looking at her, staring out into the morning sunlight. "He left with them."

Mary Margret was surprised by this, pulling a cereal box from a shelf as she stared at Isabelle, "He did?"

"Yes," Isabelle looked at her legs, her hands folding there, dismay clear in her posture, "He said he had some errands to run."

Mary Margret had no complaints there. The man was starting to scare her. Well, scare her more than he had before. But… she couldn't help but feel that his odd protection for Isabelle was endearing, almost sweet. "Alright by me…," Mary Margret pulled a bowl from another shelf, reaching next to Isabelle to do so, pouring herself a bowl before asking, timidly, "So David left too?"

"Oh! Yes, he left you a note-." Isabelle looked up, pointed at the kitchen table. "I'm sorry, I forgot."

Mary Margret left her milkless cereal and moved to read the note, on the back of the reciept.

_I couldn't wake you up, you looked so peaceful. _

_I'll be back after work to pick you up. _

_See you then. _

_Love, _

_David._

Mary Margret smiled fondly at the note, and tucked it safely away in her pajama's pocket. David worked all day Sundays, since he didn't have a shift on Saturday. She would have to wait impatiently for him. But she could wait. Now she had time to talk to Isabelle alone, and ask her things she hadn't dared to ask with Mr. Gold and Emma present.

"So," she said, turning to Isabelle, who had now curled her legs up with her arms around them. "Let's say we make them dinner."

"But it's not even lunch yet," Isabelle said, "It's only ten twenty one. It says so on the digital clock," she pointed to the one above the small oven. Mary Margret smiled again, wondering who had taught her about digital clocks. "Mr. Gold said he wouldn't be back until five at the earliest." Mary Margret poured milk into the bowl, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Does magic exist here?" Isabelle wondered aloud.

"What?" Mary Margret spoke through her mouthful of Chex, asking more out of astonishment than really asking her to repeat what she had said.

"Magic," Isabelle said more loudly, "Does it exist here?"

"Well, what kind of magic?" Mary Margret asked after swallowing, not quite sure where this was going. _Love is a magic, I suppose…_

"Magic that lifts people up by the arm and forces them backwards."

All Mary Margret could think of was, _Use the force Luke._ "Um, no, not really. Why?"

"I don't know," Isabelle almost whispered, the window still entrancing her gaze. Mary Margret took a few more bites, her head ache starting up again. She sighed, wishing she had brought Tylenol along with her. Done with her breakfast, she went to wash the dish, standing by the very silent Isabelle.

She knew that Mr. Gold's affection wasn't one sided, but, she hadn't guessed that the girl would be so attached. It reminded her of how David had latched onto her, even though he was married. Was it the same thing? Was there obvious amnesia linked in some way? She turned off the water, setting the dish to dry on the rack. Isabelle continued to look away. Mary Margret sighed, feeling obligated to cheer her up. But with what?

"We'll make them a big dinner," Mary Margret glanced over at her, grinning at her conspiratorially. "To welcome them back. From scratch if you want."

"You make food here? It doesn't all come in boxes premade?" Isabelle perked up, was curious again.

"Yes we make food," Mary Margret giggled at her innocence, "It's just easier when it comes out of a box. But the best food is food we make ourselves."

"I agree!" Isabelle scooted off the counter, eyes bright with excitement, "And I've been wanting to try the electric oven. When can we start?"

Mary Margret grinned broadly, fetching her cell phone.

"What're you doing?" Isabelle asked as Mary Margret pressed number 5 on her speed dial.

Before she could answer, Emma picked up, "Hello?"

"Hey, Emma?" she looked back at Isabelle who grinned, fascinated by the transaction, "We're going to need some stuff from the grocery store."

**A/N: Guys- this chapter was not the best I know- however, I've been freaking out too much about this week's episode**

** I'M SO EXCITED! **

** All the reviews were so appreciated! Seriously-**

**Oh- guys, when the show does show Belle and my story becomes AU, forgive it, and continue to read, please! **


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: You guys are so kind! Your reviews were awesome! LoL, and I love that everyone is beginning to catch all the Easter eggs I hide in the stories- you are amazing! **

**Hope you enjoy! **

Chapter 14

~: Mr. Gold :~

He couldn't help flexing his hand every few seconds, the gesture done in hopes that it would ignite a spark. A spark of magic, like the one that had scalded through him last night. The trigger was obvious. It had only taken a matter of minutes to think about what it could possibly be that had enacted the magic. The real question was though, how? How come it hadn't worked when Regina had been driving away with her in the back seat with that cretin, and it had worked when the cretin'd been about to hit her?

Mr. Gold's rage flared, clenching his hand into a fist at the thought of anyone hitting Belle.

Mr. Gold sat in his shop, the sign on front reading "Open." He hoped the little prince would come soon. It had been three hours since he had opened his shop, and the boy still had not come. He watched one of his clocks restlessly, eyes flicking to the next one, hoping it would read something different. Nothing was different. The seconds ticked by like minutes, the minutes moved like hours, and the hours? Days.

On the desk in front of him was the cup that he had retrieved from his house this morning after Ms. Swan had dropped him off there. It was her cup, the tea cup that she had broken all those years ago. He fiddled with it as he waited. He wondered what would happen if she saw it. Would she remember?

No- he withdrew his hand from it. He couldn't let her remember. It would be too painful.

The grasshopper would be up at the cabin by now, Mr. Gold realized, as the grandfather clock struck one. Sighing with frustrated annoyance, he wondered what the fool would be asking her. He had seen the admiration in his eyes when he had looked at Belle the day previously when she'd answered his questions with smiles and laughter. Laughter he hadn't been able to hear through the glass window. He didn't like it.

He tapped his finger angrily on the desk.

If the grasshopper fell in love with her it was not going to be his business. Belle was free from him, could love whomever she pleased. If she wanted the insect she could have him. His hand balled again until his knuckles whitened. She could do better than an insect, but then again, she could do much better than Mr. Gold…

How could she possibly love him, Mr. Gold, the darkness of the realm? How could she be in this life, where nothing happy ever happened, only vindictive spite and sadistic smiles guided this dimension? But this reality had proved him wrong once, had shown him that there was hope in this sordid world. Belle was alive. Her smiles were true and there was not an ounce of spite in her body.

But maybe that was only meant to twist him farther into the pit of despair. No, it had to be. Nothing good ever happened to the villain, and the villain was the role that Mr. Gold played. Why had that fact never before bothered him here?

The bell at his door chimed. Mr. Gold looked up to see Henry striding in, his back pack and jacket on, casual as ever. Mr. Gold saw his bike parked outside of the shop before the door closed. Regina obviously had not caught him last night. Still, he had to ask.

"Your mother didn't catch you then?" Mr. Gold inquired, folding his hands, sitting back.

"The Evil Queen? Na, she was gone until four this morning," Henry shrugged, "And she just woke up. I think she was testing out your spell casting."

Mr. Gold immediately flexed his hand, but replied, "I don't possess magic here, Your Highness."

Henry lifted his eyebrows, "Magic words count," he informed Mr. Gold, "By the way she can get onto a lot of your property- just not your house, your shop and your cabin."

This was pertinent information. The boy trusted him. He'd made an ally here. Or, an enemy. He could be lying just to soothe Mr. Gold into false comfort, "How do you know?"

"I listen," Henry grinned smugly. _There was so much royal blood in him he probably couldn't help it,_ Mr. Gold thought. He was telling the truth. He had an ally in a prince. "I think it's because you own the rest of your property you just back through someone else, so it's not really yours."

Mr. Gold had never thought he would see the day that he had a prince as an ally. Especially this particular prince, who knew him better than everyone but her Majesty in this miniscule town. Henry slung his arms up onto the counter, and Mr. Gold couldn't help but be reminded of a western film. "So, do you have what I came here for?"

"You have to watch what you say more carefully. Keep dropping subtle hints like that, little prince, and you'll find yourself missing a book," Mr. Gold threatened easily, watching him blanch. It was true. The prince had been saying poignant things. It had to stop before it got out of hand. Threatening the loss of his precious book again was something that obviously worried him.

"Good thing I memorized it," the boy tried to retort with a nonchalant air. It didn't quite work, his skin was too pale and his eyes betrayed the truth. Some of it was memorized. Other parts were not. He hastily moved on to the more important topic, lifting his chin so he could see, "Now show me the tea cup."

Mr. Gold did so grudgingly, lifted the porcelain cup to the boy's eye level, rotating his wrist so the boy could see the chip in the rim, holding onto it firmly. The little prince was smart, and did not try to touch it, but studied it keenly. "You did keep it. It's just like the picture in the book," Henry smiled fondly, eyes following it.

Mr. Gold put it back on his desk quickly. He'd shared enough. "Satisfied?"

"Yep," Henry grinned. His smile faded quickly though, his face turning to ponder something, before he spoke aloud, "So… how are you going to convince Belle to stay at your house? I was thinking-."

Mr. Gold was taken aback at the boy's blatancy. "I'm not."

"You're not?" Henry stopped, his idea that had been running through his head pausing, to reel in what Mr. Gold had said, "But, you've got to! How else is she supposed to fall in love with you again?"

Mr. Gold's eyes narrowed, looking away from Henry to start into the cluttered corners of his dark shop, "She never will," he spoke bitterly.

"But- Rumpelstiltskin," the prince was truly distraught now, his palms flat on the countertop, "how are we going to break the curse if you don't share-."

"Your Highness," Mr. Gold interrupted, "I don't need reminding of how to break my own curse." He felt his jaw tighten. "It won't happen…"

"But – and she won't be safe unless she's with you- you know that!" Henry was shouting, trying to get a better view of him over the counter, "The Evil Queen could take her again! You have to do something to win her back before she goes and lives with her dad!"

Her dad… the boy didn't know what had happened there, it was obvious. He didn't need to explain that even if she didn't remember she would still loathe him. Her Majesty would not be a threat either. The Evil Queen would not take her away when she learned Mr. Gold had no intention of falling in love with her again. Even though he had never fallen out of love with her… He would leave her alone… And her Majesty would listen, because he would force her to stay away. He found the proper words a long time ago to keep her Majesty from harming Belle. It had been that first night that she had been ill in her bed. It was a pity he had forgotten it in that moment of crisis.

"You can't say that she doesn't care for you anymore, Mr. Gold!" Henry pounded the counter. Mr. Gold felt his temper flare, but Henry wasn't done. "She loves you- I can tell. Kiss her! Make her remember!"

"It's not that simple," Mr. Gold hissed.

"You don't need to regret it anymore!" Henry exclaimed, "She's here, alive. In the book you regretted-," the boy stopped, and something sinister seeped into his young tone, "Or is it that you're a coward still?" Mr. Gold froze. _You're a coward_, _Rumpelstiltskin_. He closed his eyes in agony. Henry withdrew, his small face sour with anger, "I always thought that maybe the stories were wrong about you Rumpelstiltskin, but they're right, aren't they? You're just too afraid to let anyone in."

Mr. Gold said nothing, thought nothing, tried to feel nothing. Henry, seeing that Mr. Gold was not going to retaliate in self defense, began to leave, making his way to the door. Mr. Gold hadn't moved as Henry pulled on the handle, making the bell overhead chime. He paused there, in the doorway, looking back at him.

"You're hurting her too you know," he said, his young voice sounding older than his years, "She'll have an empty heart too. All she's missing is the chipped cup."

The door closed behind him, the bell chiming again, leaving Mr. Gold alone in his dark, lonely cave, clutching his cane until the skin over his joints ached.

~: Isabelle :~

Doctor Archie Hopper hadn't had as many questions for her today. She was glad however. The questions took her away from the thoughts that were unfolding in her mind. The Black Knight was connected to the Evil Queen, and the Evil Queen was the same person as Regina Mills, Henry's adopted mother. The worlds were different, but the people were the same. They had all just forgotten. How had they all forgotten?

Doctor Archie Hopper had stayed though, stayed to help with the dinner. His company was kind, and thoughtful, and he was enjoying teaching her about things like the microwave, and the coffee maker Emma had brought up.

"And it produces something to drink?" Isabelle inquired, watching the black substance pour into a pitcher.

"Yeah," Emma said, fiddling with a machine at the kitchen table with a tool. "It takes my edge off." That was Isabelle's next question when she had a taste of a drink. What was a video camera?

Doctor Archie Hopper pulled out the coffee pitcher, and gave Isabelle a mug full of the stuff.

"Be careful," Mary Margret said, slicing vegetables. "It's strong stuff."

Isabelle nodded, and took a sip. It was hot, scalding her tongue, and tasted too raw. She coughed on it.

"Maybe we should add some milk?" Doctor Archie Hopper grinned. Isabelle nodded her consent, letting the man pour milk into her mug.

It was less hot, but still the taste was still bitter. She didn't like it even after swallowing half the mug. She put it down, and smiled weakly at the red head who nodded in understanding. "Can I just have a glass of milk?"

"Sure thing," he replied. She gulped it down, trying to get the taste out of her mouth.

"You should have put sugar in it," Mary Margret realized, "It tastes better that way."

"Oh, no thank you," Isabelle said politely over her glass. She didn't think she could handle any more of that coffee stuff. Her heart was already racing as it was, and she was shaking. It had been the same stuff she'd had last night, the same stuff that made her jittery- but that drink had been cool and sweet. This one was hot and harsh.

The memories started before she could sit down.

_She was little, and her mama was reading her a story, her favorite story, where a brave woman rescued her town. She loved her mama, she wanted to be just like her someday. She reached up and fiddled with her mama's necklace she always wore when she was being put to bed. Her mama smiled, kissed her goodnight, and left with her papa who held her close. _

_ Another memory: She was older now, her mama was gone. She and her papa stood at her grave in black robes and all she could think was, "Please mama, please come back." She never did. Her papa gave her Mama's favorite necklace, a small diamond on a chain. She wore it always, reminding her that her mama was gone, but that her mama loved her still. _

_ She poured over books in a small library as a young woman, for the tenth time searching for a new story to captivate her while hiding away from her hobbyduke. When she couldn't find a fresh story she settled on rereading her favorite, full of daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise, and curled up for the fifteenth reading._

_ She was much older now, her nineteenth year, almost twenty. Her papa sat her down sternly, and instead of scolding her about helping around the kitchens again, was telling that she was going to be engaged to a wealthy knight. The kingdom needed the money, and the alliance, and he couldn't afford the war that was coming. Yes, the Ogre War had finally reached their lands. She knew the knight, couldn't help but let the tears swell in her eyes. The knight was so wrong for her, so superficial. She wondered if he could even read books without pictures in them. She could never love him, not truly. But her papa told her sternly that this was her duty. She had to obey. She would obey. She would be that brave woman that rescued her town. Even if it meant a loveless marriage._

She smacked her head, and snapping her back into reality, and then the world faded into dreams.

~: Mr. Gold :~

He'd said something to Prince Charming once. _Love, is like a delicate flame, and once it's gone, it's gone forever_.

He would lose her forever again. The thought hit him harder than it had before, made reality by the child's words. _She loves you – I can tell._

He had closed his shop, had returned the tea cup to his house, and had been reminded that if he wanted to see her again he would have to drive up himself. The Sheriff had told him as much when she had dropped him off. His leg ached at the mere idea.

He had a few more errands to run before he went up to her though. Only a few. He sighed as he stared at the task before him. He didn't know what was compelling him to do this. If she was going to be gone before the end of the week, then what was the point?

_To see her smile_, he supposed.

He looked at the entrance of the building, taking a breath before entering the building.

The receptionist nodded at him politely over a book when he limped up to her. "How can I help you?"

The problem was he didn't know how the receptionist could help him. He didn't know what she wanted, and that was the reason he was here. He supposed he would get one of everything, just to test it out, just to see what she would like it and what she wouldn't.

"Can I help you pick out a genre?" the lady asked, trying to sound kind but was obviously trying to hurry him up.

He straightened a little, "No, actually, but I think I'm going to need one of those cards you use."

~: Emma :~

Isabelle had woken up quickly after her collapse. There was no damage done in the fall. She'd been well enough to ask what video cameras were within five minutes of what had happened, so Emma sent her on her merry way.

Isabelle and Mary Margret were now discussing what they were planning for dessert.

"I have a good recipe for apple pie," Isabelle tried. Yes, Isabelle was remembering things. Lots of things. She was remembering her birthday, and how her mother had died, but everything she said was edited, as though she was afraid of something. Of them, almost. Archie had thought so too, though he was positive she wasn't insane. All she had was amnesia, and he was going to prescribe weekly sessions for her. Poor Archie, worn out by helping deep clean the house and helping to cook, was taking a much needed nap on the couch. Emma was so glad he was staying for dinner. It meant that she didn't have to be fifth wheel at this dinner party.

"I've never really liked apple pie," Mary Margret was slow to say. No, Emma thought, she didn't. She hated anything to do with apples, which was surprising for a teacher. Didn't kids normally give teachers apples and the teachers were supposed to eat them? _Cliché_, Emma shook her head, and kept working. She'd almost finished up the camera displays. There were only three, because that's all that the station could afford, but she had set them up at just the right angle. The next time the Mayor decided to bust in, she would have her with perfect proof, and finally would nail her-

"What's your favorite dessert, Emma?" Isabelle asked kindly, interrupting her brutal train of thought.

"Oh, um, I like brownies," Emma shrugged, and went back to fiddling with the computer. She liked brownies, but they weren't her favorite- Emma had just bought a brownie mix for them, because they had gone WAY overboard on this endeavor. Emma didn't know how they were going to pay rent if they were going to keep this kind of cooking up.

Emma, in her defense, had tried to help. But she'd let the rolls burn. The rolls they'd made from scratch. She'd excused herself as they worked to make more dough, and had gone back to her task of setting up a perimeter. She'd never really been the homemaking type.

"What are brownies?"

"Isabelle," Mary Margret said, eyes wide, taking Isabelle's hands in hers. "You've never had brownies?"

"No," Isabelle looked surprised, and curious. Geez that girl was _always_ curious. "No I haven't."

"Well, you're in for a treat," Mary Margret beamed, "Lets clean up some of this mess and we'll get right to it."

"Alright," Isabelle grinned and they set to work.

"There's a box in the cupboard," Emma pointed without looking up from her computer screen.

"Got it!" Mary Margret said, reaching up on the shelf for it.

Mary Margret had been cheering Isabelle up all day. They had cleaned together, had cooked together, Mary Margret had even helped her pick out an outfit. An outfit, like this was a date with her and Mr. Gold. Emma shuddered at the thought. He was just so… creepy.

But Isabelle liked him. Liked him a lot. It was weird. With a guy like David in the house- ok, well, Emma could tell Isabelle wasn't stupid. David and Mary Margret went together like peanut butter and jelly. But even Archie was better than Mr. Gold, Emma thought, making a face. She didn't get it. And they hadn't even spent that much time together- this had to do with something that Mr. Gold had mentioned- that they had known each other before Isabelle had been diagnosed with whatever lie Regina had come up with. But that had been when Isabelle was fifteen – _fifteen_. It would have been statutory rape, according to Maine's laws of consent. They couldn't have been in love then, could they? Emma shook her head.

She just didn't get it.

And plus, the fact that he was going to tell her that he beat up her dad. He obviously didn't want this to go anywhere. He was looking to end it quickly, sever all ties. He'd just felt obligated to look out for her or something…

Emma knew that was a lie before the thought had even finished.

She sighed in frustration, and watched as Isabelle checked the clock again. It was 4:39. The seconds were not going to go by faster if she kept looking. Emma knew that she wasn't checking to see if the food was done. What was the deal here? Why did Isabelle like him so much? She'd heard of love at first sight but knew that that was absolutely ridiculous. There had been a history there that she didn't know yet.

"So Isabelle," she said over the washing of dish pans, grabbing the girl's attention. "How did you know Mr. Gold, you know, before, this?"

Mary Margret turned to make a dismayed face at Emma. She knew when her questioning police tone was on. Emma ignored her.

"Well, I don't remember yet," Isabelle put the pan down that she was drying, "But I assure you I soon will."

"Will you let me know? When you do? Without that whole editing thing that you keep doing?" Emma gestured to her.

Isabelle bit her lip. A sure sign of an honest girl who disliked lying. Not that Emma needed her tell. Emma knew when people were lying to her and when they weren't. "I will try." She nodded at Emma. "I really will try."

Emma didn't like that, but before she could say anything someone knocked on the door. Emma immediately looked to the screen of her computer to see who was at the entrance. The third camera was still glitching out, but the one at the front door was fine. It was David. With flowers.

"Got it," Emma said dryly, standing up and answering the door.

"Hey," David said. The guy was nice, but his eyes wandered over her, looking for, "Is Mary Margret here?"

"Yes!" Mary Margret called, running right up to him, "You got off work early."

"I had to see you," David smiled, looking into her eyes.

And this is where Emma left them, listening to Mary Margret's gasp at the discovery of his bouquet he had brought her. Isabelle smiled fondly at them as Emma past with a look on her face. Weird romance stories all over the place, and they Emma left wondering where August W. Booth was.

_Weirder and weirder thoughts_, Emma grimaced to herself. She put her computer and the extra gadgets attached to it away from the table, figuring that they were probably going to set it soon, and grabbed a spare vase from the cupboard. It was weird some of the stuff Mr. Gold had in this old place, the silver vase, the dried rose in it. She removed the dried rose and tossed it into the trash can, before holding out the vase. Mary Margret took it as she waltzed by with her flowers, humming to herself. David came in, leaning against a wall, watching Mary Margret fill the vase with water and looking like a fool all the while.

"What are you doing?" he asked, inhaling the scent of the rather delicious smelling dinner, but he was really looking at Mary Margret. Mary Margret was wearing something fancier than normal, almost a party dress, but she'd added a few accessories to keep it simple. Emma was glad he noticed. Mary Margret had bitten her thumb nails off worrying over it.

"Making dinner," Mary Margret smiled over her shoulder. "We still have to set the table- Emma could you?"

"Not a problem," Emma nodded, taking out plates and began setting the table for six. She watched as Isabelle glanced at the clock again. 4:46.

"We need to start on the brownies," Mary Margret reminded herself. "Isabelle, could you get the eggs out of the fridge?"

"Yes." Isabelle also got the vegetable oil and the measuring cups, like it said on the back of the box. The girl learned quickly. That or she had done a lot of baking before she had gone off to the psychiatric ward.

Which Emma had decided she was going to do a full scale investigation on when Archie declared Isabelle sane. There was no way that Isabelle was crazy. Confused, but certainly not worth locking up like that in a padded cell. What other people did Regina keep in that basement of hers?

~: Isabelle :~

It was 5:23.

He was not there yet.

Everyone was sitting on the sofas or standing, waiting for him to show up. Everyone else was talking, or listening, and no one else seemed as like they were in that big of a hurry to start, so they weren't upset by his being late…

Isabelle was upset though.

She looked down at the dress that Mary Margret had let her borrow. It was yellow, with a beautiful design on the fringes. _A sundress,_ Mary Margret had called it. It showed her knees though, and some of her thigh, which made her tug it down a lot. She really liked the way it ruffled though. The _cardigan_ she wore she liked, especially the way it came only to her elbow. She was also wearing slippers, _flats_, Mary Margret had corrected. It was odd to wear shoes after so many days of being barefoot.

"We're getting you a haircut as soon as we get you into town," Mary Margret had told her as they had combed out her hair after washing it. Mary Margret had let it curl on its own though, instead of applying the hot iron she used on her own hair. A dab of what Mary Margret called "make-up" but what Isabelle remembered as "face paint" made her eyes stand out.

She had gotten excited about seeing him again, expecting him promptly at 5, but, for some reason, she knew he was going to be late. _He always had been, but then it had just been to keep her on her toes-._

She fixed that thought into her memory. Another clue to her and Mr. Gold's past.

Doctor Archie Hopper called her name, "Isabelle?"

She blinked, and smiled at him automatically, "Sorry, what was that?" realizing that he'd been speaking to her earlier.

"Nothing," he grinned at her. "I was just saying that you look lovely."

"Thank you." He was so kind to her, she thought. She wondered about him. He had told her earlier that she could just call him Archie. "Archie," she added. He nodded at her approvingly.

Just then the door opened. Isabelle stood up.

Mr. Gold came in, pain obvious on his face, and looked at the kitchen, startled to find the state of his dinner table, laden with food and a vase of flowers, along with two candle sticks Isabelle had found in cleaning the cabin earlier.

He looked back, closing the door, and his eyes found Isabelle, who folded her hands nervously in front of her.

"What's all this?" he wondered aloud, his eyes lighting on her.

She felt so nervous all the sudden, as though every second of waiting had started winding up her insides until it was all just a jumbled ball of nerves and butterflies. "We made dinner. Well, Mary Margret did."

"No I didn't," Mary Margret interjected quickly, "I mean, I just helped."

Isabelle made to correct her, but Emma stopped her, clapping her hands on her knees, "Well, I'm starved. I've been sitting around this house all day just smelling the stuff. Let's eat!"

Mr. Gold waited as Emma and the others past, still looking at Isabelle.

"Now what brought this on, dearest?" he asked her quietly.

"Well, you weren't here today, and there wasn't much to do besides make a list of names I haven't guessed yet and sitting around, so Mary Margret decided we should make dinner," Isabelle smiled shyly.

"Ah," he acknowledged, "You cleaned too- thank you," he told her, "The place was filthy."

"It- wasn't a problem," she told him honestly, still bashful.

"Well, shall we?" he asked, gesturing broadly to the table, half bowing as he did so.

She curtseyed back, even though Emma had explained to her that people didn't normally do so.

As he walked behind her, she noticed he was carrying a heavy bag. Curious, she made to peer closer but stopped when his hand lightly touched her back, guiding her forward. Ever so slightly, but, enough that she forgot to breathe.

Mary Margret sat across from her, while Archie to her right. Mr. Gold and Emma sat on the ends of the table, and David sat in between Emma and Mary Margret across from Archie. Mary Margret had lit the candles and had turned out the light, except the one over the kitchen sink, so the ambiance was beautiful, and hushed.

Isabelle glanced at Mr. Gold as Mary Margret started passing the food around, and telling everyone to take something. He looked at her, and she at him, smiling. His smile was small, but his eyes were alight, dancing. She loved it when his eyes danced. She almost liked this shade of his eyes better. It was more, natural, that way.

~: Mr. Gold :~

She was dressed in a sunshine color, not quite yellow and not quite gold. It reminded him of the first time they had met. He'd always liked her in yellow, but then again, he'd always liked her in blue. Sky colors. She was made for sky colors. She looked absolutely beautiful tonight, radiant, and yet shy, though expectant. She'd been excited that he had come home. It had been plainer than the nose on her face.

He had dropped off the bag in her room, just reaching it around the doorframe so it wasn't out in the open. He hoped that she would like them.

The food was delicious. She had learned about ovens, microwaves, and crock pots today, obviously, though she didn't speak much about it. She didn't say much of anything throughout the three course meal. Yes. Courses. There had been a soup first, something vaguely Italian. Then they had moved on a roast, with potatoes and other such foods- she had been proud when he'd complimented the meal, but it had been Mary Margret that had explained it.

Now they were finishing with dessert, and Isabelle and Mary Margret had begun to clean up. Archie followed, helping take dishes to the sink, and speaking to Isabelle more than he needed to. Mr. Gold scowled at the grasshopper, before moving back to the bag he had discarded earlier. Swiftly, he agilely removed the bag, and gently placed the finishing touch on top.

It was too unlike him, he thought to himself. Too sentimental- but… he only had six days… he wanted to regret nothing this time. He wanted to make her happy now, even if it harrowed his soul later. He stepped out of the room before anyone noticed he had been away, folding the bag as he did so. Emma was still explaining the new system to David, who wasn't interested in anything but trying to help Mary Margret while balancing listening to Emma. Isabelle was drying, but she glanced at him, and he glanced away, rocking back on his heels.

His leg hurt from driving. It was a stupid wound, so inhibiting. He flexed his hand again, hoping that magic would shoot through it, but of course nothing happened. It was vexing to be tempted by something he'd never thought he'd have again, only to have it disappear moments later… He smiled grimly at the thought. Not that he wasn't going to experience that when Belle left…

"Mr. Gold?" Isabelle smiled at him, expectant. He hadn't even noticed her come up to him.

"Belle," he said, startled, "Yes-? My dear?"

"What are your plans for tomorrow?" she asked him, biting her lip, "Mary Margret has work tomorrow, and so does Emma and David for part of it… so if you have to go into town again, I was wondering if I could join you."

"I'm not going into town again tomorrow, dearest. I shall be here all day if you wish it."

"So does that mean I can ask my lists for today and tomorrow tomorrow?" she grinned expectantly. Her eyes were so bright, the candlelight flickering over her face.

"Of course," he smiled back. Tomorrow. His smile turned mischievous. "Just, don't stay up too late."

He moved away from her before she could ask what he meant.

**A/N: Guys, guys, guys! **

** What is Mr. Gold giving Belle as a gift… of sorts? Have you guessed yet?**

** Oh! And has anyone guessed what triggers Belle's flashbacks? **

**ALSO! By the time I post again, the new episode will have aired! I'm so freaking excited! Again - Thank you all for your kind reassurances! You're all so sweet! **

**Last thing I swear – Archie is not in love with Belle. He thinks she's pretty, sure but more or less he finds her fascinating and we don't know about his true love yet, so I'm just using that to Mr. Gold's disadvantage. It's just fun, that's all! **


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: ... YOU ARE AMAZING! by the way, just in case you were wondering- all the reviews (we've reached over 200 now! XD), all the kindness and love and well wishing, I really really appreciate it! Thank you so much!**

**Guys, did you see the episode? DID YOU SEE THE EPISODE?**

**This chapter is mostly fluff- but I think that you'll like it. **

Chapter 15

~: Isabelle :~

Isabelle woke groggily, sunlight already shining on her face, and glanced at the red lettering on the beside digital clock. It read 9:54.

Instantly she leapt out of bed, combing her hair into submission with her fingers.

She had planned on rising early, on making him breakfast, but she had been up late. He knew that she would be up late. It was his fault, she thought ruefully.

"Good morning, my dear," Mr. Gold said as she stumbled into the kitchen, his nose in a large packet of black and white papers. Her heart sunk. He really was awake.

"Good morning," she sighed, letting her hands fall from her hair as she made her way to the kitchen sink.

"You seem a little downcast this morning." She looked up at him but he was still behind the packet of paper. "I thought you would be more cheerful."

"I am," she smiled immediately, thinking of his gift. "I just wanted to be up earlier…"

"For what purpose?" he inquired half interested.

"I was going to make you breakfast," Isabelle made a face.

"We still have lunch and dinner, dearest. Don't fret."

She smiled at that. She also really liked that he called her _dearest_. "Where is Emma?" Isabelle asked, sitting down next to him, but wasn't able to see him with the paper in the way.

"She left, said she'd be back late," Mr. Gold answered.

"Alright," she smiled at that. Emma was fair wonderful, but she didn't like that she fought with Mr. Gold. "What are you reading?" she said, the title in ornate print. _The Daily Mirror_.

"The local newspaper," he spoke automatically, "It's a document that holds the recent news of the town, to keep everyone updated." She liked that he could explain things so simply. The others found themselves stumbling to explain things, and it wasn't very coherent.

"Can I read it?" she asked excitedly.

"No," his voice was sharp.

"Why not?" she was confused.

"I'm reading it." But that wasn't the real reason. He flipped the paper down, so he could look at her seemingly for the first time that morning, "Don't you have your own books to read?"

Isabelle grinned broadly at that. "Yes, I do!" She shot up and went to her room, remembering with zeal the stack that had greeted her the night before. Books of all shapes and sizes- there were books about how things worked in this world, about the history of this world, about famous people of this world. There were fictional novels, about mysterious and one about horror, which she had put aside. She'd had enough horrors in her life to not want to read anymore. There was a science fiction book, which she planned on starting, but she had finished several small books on this world through the night before she had found the fairy tale book. She had read through it steadily, until the digital beside clock had read 4:16 and her eyes had drooped. Along with these marvelous books there was a small red rose that had been laid on top. She had put the rose in with the other flowers, and there it stood out, bright and red. She'd always been so fond of roses, and here he'd given her one.

She closed the door when she decided that it was proper if she got dressed first, instead of staying in her night things, since he was dressed for the day and reading his newspaper. She donned breeches that clung to her skin, Emma's, so she had to roll up the bottoms to walk, and pulled an undershirt over her head. There were so many layers. She had been used to her shift in the basement cell, but here she was forced to wear frilly under things that were difficult to put on. "Better than a corset," she muttered under her breath, pulling on a blue button up shirt that mirrored Mr. Gold's. She had remembered that she had worn corsets and dressed before, and could remember wearing anything much different before escaping the dungeon.

She didn't wear shoes. She was so used to not wearing shoes that it was odd having them on at all. And before she hadn't cared what she had worn- she wondered why she cared so much now. It was obvious though, she decided, picking up a few books and heading to sit on the sofa.

"Thank you," she smiled at him as she curled up.

"For what, my dear?" he asked, flipping the newspaper down again so he could see her.

"For all the books. I haven't seen so many new books in all my life. It's wonderful," she pressed one of them to her chest in reminiscent joy. He went back to reading, and she cracked open a fresh book. This one was about how men of old in this world had made huge three dimensional triangles, pyramids, out of stone so that their great leaders could reach their destinations in the afterlife.

They sat there that way for a long time, both of them reading silently, Isabelle finishing the pyramid book and moving on to the next book about something called DNA, while Mr. Gold got out a book of his own after he was finished reading the newspaper. He stayed over at the kitchen table while she moved whenever her body needed a stretch, rolling fully onto her stomach when she wanted to. It was something that breeches allowed her to do without worrying about who could see up her skirts. She was happy with it.

The atmosphere was content. She glanced over at Mr. Gold frequently, just to make sure he hadn't left, even though she would have felt it if he had left, she was sure of it.

There was a knock on the door, startling her out of her different world about genes, and called, "Coming!"

She opened the front door to find, "Archie!" wringing his umbrella in his hands. She smiled broadly at him, "Come in."

~: Mr. Gold :~

He shut himself in his room, listening to Archie speak to a raptured Belle. He hadn't been able to stand it anymore. The man had been over here for two precious hours, babbling at her while she nodded, making lunch together as he had sat there. Idiot insect.

His leg was killing him today, and he hadn't brought medication up with him. After all the exertion, the driving, the running up the mountain, carrying her around, he should have known it would all add up. He needed a rest, and the grasshopper was buzzing so much it was deafening. He sat stiffly on the bed, and slowly relaxed himself into a laying position, placing his cane besides his bed. The newspaper from earlier he stowed under the bed. He could see Isabelle going through the trash to find it. She always had been nosy- but he couldn't let her see her mug shot with the caption "Criminal Still At Large" in print above it.

He hadn't slept much the night before he realized as he stretched out on his bed. He had thought about Belle in the next room reading the books he had given her. He didn't know how he was going to tell her that they weren't hers, that they had to be returned, but he was sure that she would love the fact that there were more where those had come from. Lots more.

He found himself dozing off, trying to drown out the annoying chirps that came from the outside room. So he was surprised that when he opened his eyes to what seemed like maybe seconds later, that Belle was sitting on the chair in his room next to the window, one of her legs folded underneath her, reading peacefully.

He glanced at the clock, which read 3:13. He'd wasted time asleep when she had been here, awake, in his room no less, reading a book. He quenched his self frustration and focused. He peered closer at the title.

"You're reading Jane Eyre, I see," Mr. Gold's voice didn't startle her as he had hoped, but she kept reading, flipping a page.

"Yes- it's very good so far," she said, still in her different reality.

"How far are you?" he asked, sitting up, noticing that she appeared to be almost half way through the book.

"I'm on chapter eleven," she replied.

"You always did read too fast," Mr. Gold muttered under his breath. She saw her mouth twitch upwards at that. Out loud he said, "How many of the books have you finished?"

She smiled. He did know her. "Well, I started several last night, but I've polished off the four smallest ones," she listed out loud, and Mr. Gold pictured the small children's informative books that he'd picked out for her to read, "The fairy tale book I think I'm saving for last. I like it immensely."

"I'm sure you do," his voice was almost too quiet to hear again. "Did the good Doctor leave?"

"Yes about an hour ago," she said, turning another page. How she managed to read and speak at the same time was still a mystery to him. As the Dark One it had been even more annoying. He couldn't multitask like that to save his life.

Something else occurred to him. The doctor had been gone for an hour and she'd crept into his room to read by his side. She continued to read, but asked him, "I was worried that you were sick. You aren't are you?"

"No I'm not." So she had been worried about him, explaining why she was in his room while he was asleep. She had been looking out for him. Unnecessary, but he could not help but let the thin smile spread across his face.

She bit her lip, now worried she'd overstepped her bounds by coming in here, but he didn't mind. "It's just that I've never seen you take a nap before."

Ah, yes, well, he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep because of her these last few nights, but he was not about to mention that.

"What about your shop?" Isabelle questioned, the changing the topic. His shop? What about his shop? When he didn't answer she continued, "Your shop has been closed for three days now. Are you worried about customers?"

Mr. Gold laughed darkly, "Customers don't come to me unless they have to. I'm sure they're all relieved I've suddenly disappeared."

"Are they though?" she wondered, "I wouldn't be."

"That's because you don't know me very well, my dear," he sighed, sitting back in his chair. "When you do you'll understand."

"I don't think so," she was determined, and put her book down to prove it.

They sat in silence, her blue eyes trying to figure out the puzzle that were his thoughts. She had been better at it before, but, in her defense, she had a shield up in her mind to keep from thinking of him, a fog there that she could not lift. He'd never hated, or liked, his curse more.

"So," he asked as the silence spread too thickly for his liking, thinking grimly that they only had a few more days, "About those lists that you had for me."

She smiled at his teasing, her expression shifting from frustration to delight, "Should I start now?" she closed the book.

"Certainly," he grinned, resting back against his bedpost and folding his hands in his lap. "Only if you haven't gotten anything like Umberto or Oswald for me today."

"Too bad," she cocked her head towards him, "No ordinary name fits you, you know. I've had to think hard." It was a true statement, and he liked that she recognized it.

"Let's hear them then," his smile was challenging.

She started shooting off names, which he denied each time. For some reason every time she guessed it wrong hurt him. He didn't understand what bothered him so much, but after listing off several hundred names (it was a very long list that she had come up with) he became more and more dismal. Until she tried to cheer him up with that bright spark in her eye. She liked to throw in names to tease him, such as Eugene or Humperdink, which he responded to by teasing her right back, and without mercy. He loved to tease her, as he had before, with quips and half giggles that made her laugh even more. His own chuckles were rare, and only occurred when she'd really startled him.

"Raphael? Julius?"

He liked it when she guessed Rs, but he shook his head to both with a smirk. They were obviously coming to a close on the guessing game, since she was running out of names now. He opened his mouth to reply mockingly-

There was a knock on the back door. Isabelle looked startled, leaned forward through the doorway to look to see who the visitor was. Mr. Gold swung his legs off of the bed, grabbing his cane as Isabelle went to answer the door.

"Hi Isabelle." It was Henry.

Mr. Gold glowered at the boy. He hadn't thought he would see the little prince in the near future he'd be so angry. Obviously he'd been wrong. "Shouldn't you be in school?" he demanded as he hobbled into the room.

"It's over," Henry replied tersely as Isabelle shut the door behind him. The little prince had not forgiven him for the argument.

"How was school?" Isabelle asked, obviously diverting the conversation from the antagonistic tones they were taking, "What did Miss Blanchard teach you?"

"We're learning about fractions and Greek Mythology," Henry informed her, slinging off his backpack like he was going to be staying awhile. He was pulling out his homework. His homework.

"Isn't your mother looking for you?" Mr. Gold snapped sharply. He couldn't believe the boy's impudence at turning up here. Didn't he know not to go poking an angry beast?

"Na, she's in a meeting until 8:30 tonight with the City Council," Henry explained with a shrug, "So I thought I would come up here with you guys and wait until Emma got back."

"Bloody terrific," Mr. Gold grumbled, hobbling to go sit on the high backed chair. Couldn't he just have these last few days with her without interruption?

~: Henry :~

He sat pondering over his almost empty mug of hot chocolate, which he had taught Isabelle how to make, waiting for Emma to show up. He still had to explain his new discoveries on Operation: Cobra, and tonight had been a perfect idea. Council meetings didn't happen very often, but when they did they were long. They used to happen more frequently when Graham had still been alive.

He just wanted Emma to come already. He'd waited here for ages for her. Not that he wasn't happy to talk to Isabelle, it was just that she wasn't Emma. She reminded him of Mary Margret a little, he thought. Well they were both princesses. It's why it was so cool to have Emma as his mom. She was a knight in shining armor, come to rescue Storybrooke from the Evil Queen. If she would just hurry up already! He had to tell her that he thought he knew who that Stranger guy was, and that he knew who Rumpelstiltskin was _finally_. Rumpelstiltskin was key in all this. If they were going to win they needed him on their side.

He did like talking to Isabelle in his mom's absence though. Isabelle was fun to talk to. She listened, she asked good questions, and he wished desperately that he could talk to her about Operation: Cobra. But he had made a deal, and he wasn't going to break it. Rumpelstiltskin was known for being vindictive when his promises weren't kept.

However, he did keep dropping hints. He even "accidently" called her Belle once, but she didn't seem to notice. Mr. Gold did, however, and his dangerous look had made him want to leave early. He stayed though.

Isabelle had helped him with his homework, helping him glue pictures and quotes onto his project about the myth of Hades and Persephone. She had been very fascinated by glue, asking what it could stick together, pasting unnecessary scraps of paper together just to test it out. She had helped him with his math too, though she seemed to have problems with fractions just like he did. The two of them managed through it together, and then Isabelle had made dinner for them all. She even put a plate in the microwave for when Emma got back.

He didn't know how to fix Mr. Gold. He'd been moodily in a corner all night long, staring blankly into space whenever Isabelle looked his way, but Henry saw him watching her. He loved her- and she loved him. She'd asked so kindly if he wanted hot chocolate too, and he'd said no so meanly. She'd turned away sadly, and Henry could tell Mr. Gold regretted it, but didn't say anything.

He was just beating himself up! Henry couldn't understand why. They could be happy! They could live Happily Ever After together. They needed to live Happily Ever After- if Mr. Gold was angry and bitter for forever, he would never remember how to use his -.

He glanced at the clock then.

And leapt to his feet, "I gotta go!" he yelled, taking the last swallow of hot chocolate before pounding it back onto the table. "Tell Emma I said hi, ok? And that I need to talk to her!"

Before Isabelle could even say a proper good bye he was running outside, through the trees, and headed for his bike. The clock had read 8:16. He'd have to book it to make it home on time. If Regina caught him out of the house again she might blame Emma, and that was a terrible thought. Last time Regina had threatened Emma with a restraining order. Those sounded bad and he didn't even know what they were. _Probably some sort of torture device_, he thought as he half fell down the slope, away into the woods as the dimly lit cabin disappeared behind him.

~: Mr. Gold :~

Belle waved after the boy, calling for him to "Be safe!"

Mr. Gold hoped that this particular excursion got him into trouble, and that he would be grounded for an age. Maybe two.

As Belle shut the door behind Henry, Mr. Gold stood. She had been doing dishes as Henry had had his regular mug of hot chocolate. Belle had had some herself, and had loved it. It was something he would put on his list of things that she liked. Chocolate.

He moved closer, watching her work. She simply smiled as she did so, being thorough. Her arms moved, making her back move, her shoulder blades slightly visible as she did so.. Graceful curls fell around her face, revealing her neck-

He stopped himself abruptly, for the hundredth time that day. All he needed was to be watching her like some demented fiend, and have Emma walk in on it.

"He knows, doesn't he?" she said quietly, finding him amidst his reverie and pulling him back to her. "He knows our past." Ah, she was speaking of Henry. He didn't say anything, letting her muse to herself. He was not going to be drawn out but her. She stopped washing, supporting her weight with the hands on the rim of the sink. "Why won't you just tell me?"

He felt himself speaking bitterly, "You don't like horrors, or tragedies."

She spun around to face him, her tone heated, "Our story wasn't a horror!"

"But it was a tragedy," his voice was laced with desolation.

"Why won't you let me judge that for myself?" she demanded, stepping forward angrily.

"Because I don't want to lose you again!" he shouted back at her, the shock on her face was apparent. He'd made her angry. He only had five days now. He could not burn his bridges not now, "Not yet."

"You won't," she vowed quietly, stepping forward, staring into his eyes, conviction there. "I promise that you won't," she leaned closer, and pressed her hand to his cheek. He felt his heart stop, his cheek ablaze with her warmth. He wanted to catch that hand, and kiss it, but fear paralyzed him the instant the thought crossed his mind. He watched the sadness fill her eyes as she realized that he was not going to tell her, her hand dropping from his face.

She made her way, shoulders hunched, back to the sink, picking up where she'd left off. He stepped forward, his mouth a straight line, afraid if he opened it everything he couldn't tell her would tumble out of his mouth.

"Would you dry?" she asked him, handing him a pan. He took it from her, and she smiled apologetically as he took it, and grabbed a drying towel. They did dishes in silence for a moment, her washing and he drying. Tension settled over them, choking him. _No, no, no, no_… he could not lose her this quickly.

"I hate it when we argue," she whispered, bending her head over her scrubbing. She was almost done. All she had left were the two mugs she and Henry had drunk hot chocolate from, along with a handful of silverware.

He wanted so much to say that he agreed with her, but he could not find it in him. He kept his mouth closed.

She sighed, her tone pained. He felt his heart clench. Why couldn't he just do something to make her happy? For once?

She handed him one of the mugs to dry.

It slipped through his fingers when she let go.

It landed on the floor, cracking.

Belle bent to pick it up with a gasp. "I'm sorry, I thought you had it-."

She looked up at him, bringing the mug into the light. "It's – It is chipped," she stuttered and he found himself staring at Belle the night she had broken the tea cup. The first night with the golden dress – he blinked, and she was crouching there in jeans, bringing the chip up along with the mug this time. "We can glue it-," she invented, looking at the mess in distress, "I'm sure you have glue here somewhere," she muttered, moving away, maneuvering around him.

One blink she was in the ball gown, the next she was back in her blue button up shirt. How could she not remember? _How could she not remember?_

He couldn't stand it anymore – her forgetfulness, the inability to recognize him, not being able to remember his name –

He followed her, stopping her abruptly, reaching an arm between her forward progress and placing it against the wall. The other he placed on the other side of her, fingertips brushing the walls. She looked around to find herself cornered. She looked at him from within his cage. Frightened, anxious –

"Mr. Gold?" she breathed.

_Mr. Gold_, he scorned. "What is my name?" he demanded, staring into her face, willing her to remember.

"I – I don't know – you've never told me your name," she stuttered.

His eyes bored into hers. "What is my name Belle?"

She seemed at a loss for words, her mouth moving in inexplicable trembles, "It's – It's –"

He captured her mouth with his, using up every inch of his bravery, his pent up frustration spilling out, longing with every fiber of his being for her to remember. He breathed in her life, her vivid light, tasting every bit as sweet and kind as she had in the past. Sweeter.

He hesitated, waited for her to pull away, to cry out in protest, but instead she looped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his, continuing, moving with him. She wasn't running, she wasn't hiding, one of her hands curling in his hair, the other hand still full of mug. With a shuddering sigh, he took control once more, moving closer, his hands flat on the wall, ardently perusing her until she broke away.

She took a deep, trembling breath, looking down at her feet, gasping. He searched for her response, watching the wheels turning in her head until she looked up at him, her face full of understanding, of recognition, of realization.

"I know," she peered at him, her gaze piercing his soul, "I remember your name."

He kissed her again, conflict burning through him. She wrapped her arms around his neck once more, pulling him closer so that he had to push against the wall to keep from crushing her. She was too far away- one of his hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him. She inhaled sharply, deepened the kiss.

His brain finally caught up with his body, forgotten somewhere back in the crescendo of the crashing cup. He pushed away from her frantically, banging against the counter when he couldn't go any further.

"No," she whispered, stepping forward, following him.

"How-," he stammered, swallowing, "How-?"

"Everything- I remember everything." She smiled, pushing his hair back from his face, "True love's kiss will break any curse, Rumpelstiltskin."

His name on the tip of her tongue. He drew her in and kissed her again, pulling her up onto her tip toes.

"How do you not-?" _how could she not hate him?_ She should be screaming at him, throwing clean pots and yelling her hatred. But no. No she was there. She was there and whole again and fresh and truly alive.

"I told you," she assured him with a smile, a bright smile that made his heart swell, "I won't leave you."

He kissed her again then, and her hands full of his shirt. Somewhere she had put down the mug. He didn't mind. He felt her soft curls brush his cheeks.

"What happened?" he asked as they surfaced once more, pulling one of those stubborn curls from her forehead and folding it into the rest of her hair, "What happened to you?"

"Her Majesty the Queen was following me- I had to run, hide, in every place I could think of… I was able to travel," she smiled at him, trying to cheer him up, and he chuckled under his breath, kissing her forehead, relief and joy mixing in his chest. When she looked at him her eyes were searching, were miserable, and he knew what she was going to ask, "Why didn't you come after me?"

He felt his heart wrench, thinking of how close he had come to following her, spinning, trying to make up his mind, when her Majesty had come in, "She told me that you had died," the words choked him, cracking in his throat. "I thought you were gone, gone forever," he found himself touching her face, rubbing his thumb along her jaw line, "And then you appeared- appeared out of nowhere after so long-." He smiled, barely able to breathe, his heart so full again, his hands feeling along her neckline, feeling her pulse beneath his fingers so reassuring, until he wrapped his arms around her again, tightened her to him.

She kissed him this time, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. There were tears forming in her eyes- he felt her blink them away against his skin-

"What the hell is going on?"

Emma stepped into the room.

**A/N: Well, what did you think? :) **

** Hehe, cliffhanger strikes again. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! I wake up and there are 20 reviews for that last chapter. I come home from work and there are 10 more reviews. I come back from school and there are 15 more reviews. Can I explain how loved I feel at this moment? You all are amazing! **

**By the way, remember how we had all that fluff last chapter? Well… it had to be balanced out… so… try and enjoy? **

Chapter 16

~: Mr. Gold :~

He didn't look at Emma, feeling the sound crash in his ears. No, no, not now, not when he'd just gotten her back. _No_… He clung to Belle by her arms, keeping her real, keeping her there. She searched his face for understanding.

"What the hell are you doing?" Emma demanded again, slamming the door behind her.

"Please," Belle said, his lovely, little Belle, trying to step around him, but he only wanted to keep her there, trying to ignore the law officer. He wouldn't let her go. She still peered over his shoulder, pleading with a raging Emma, "Please don't be mad Emma, its true love-."

"True love? You told her that this was true love-?" Emma yelled in disgust. That had been the wrong thing to say. He hunched his shoulders, as though it could shield Belle from this.

"But it is!" Belle told her furtively. He could see that little crease in her forehead that appeared when she was upset, wanted to smooth it away-

Emma's voice was sharp, full of contained fury, "You haven't told her yet-."

"Don't," he hacked, a harsh begging noise, "Don't, please."

"- Have you?" she finished vehemently.

Belle looked up into his face, again, searching. She wanted to know what was terrifying him so, he could feel it in her gaze, but he could not meet her eyes, for fear they would betray him. She placed a hand against his cheek.

"What'd he make you do?" Emma hissed.

"He didn't make me do anything," Belle snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. No, he closed his eyes in pain. That had also been the wrong thing to say. The demented fiend, swooping in and running off with her innocence- _no, that was not how it had happened_.

Emma sounded repulsed, "You sick-." She cut herself off.

"We had a deal!" he howled at her.

"Yeah but I didn't think I'd find you guys actually doing anything – " she stopped herself from continuing that thought, her tone ended with a gag. _No, don't_. Don't think that about his Belle-

"What deal?" Belle wanted to know, trying to find his eyes. He would not let her.

"I have five more days-," he said, clinging to Belle's arms still, to keep her from leaving, to keep Emma from tearing her away.

"You think that I'm going to let you have five days alone at this cabin with her you can forget it!" Emma shouted. _No_. No this could not be happening. He would not touch her again. He would not touch her again. He let go of Belle, about to promise-.

"Five days until what?" Belle questioned, whispering to him, her fingers tracing along his jaw line, trying to coax him into words. Why did her curiosity always ruin everything? Everything- just like before in the past when she'd kissed him, curious to know if they were truly in love, and he had done so wrong. So wrong. "Five days until what?" her voice was louder.

Too loud. Emma heard. "Until he tells you -."

"Don't!" he bellowed, his voice a mixture of dread and agony.

" – That he put your father in the hospital."

No.

No no_, no_.

"What?" Belle whispered, her gasp of a word that slashed his soul. He looked up into those cerulean eyes that were normally so bright, so alive, but all he saw was horror, confusion twisting in them. _No_.

"Mr. Gold was charged for battery, leaving your father Moe French with internal bleeding and breaking several bones. All just because he stole." It was though Emma was reading it out of the newspaper, telling the exact details. She sounded like the police officer making the charges.

_He stole our tea cup_, he wanted to say as she slowly stepped back from him. _I thought it was gone; it was all of you that I had left. I needed it back_.

"But, why?" she asked him, her eyes full of betrayal.

"Your father owed some money to Mr. Gold," Emma was explaining, the venomous tone acid in his ears, "So he took his van. Left him with nothing. So your father reacted, and took some stuff from Mr. Gold's house by breaking and entering."

He took the tea cup. _He took the tea cup_. He glanced over her shoulder at the mug on the kitchen table that she had just broken, unable to look into her face, to see the betrayal any longer. _He had taken the tea cup, and her Majesty had told him that her father had done unspeakable things to her. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault_.

"Mr. Gold, as far as I can tell, dragged him up here to this cabin and began beating him to death until I found him. In the act."

How she relished in it. How she must have enjoyed the horrified look on Belle's face, who stepped away from him, covering her mouth with her small beautiful fingers. He had lost her again. Lost her again. There was nothing he could do.

"No, Belle, I-," he tried, stepping forward, shaking, his hand outstretched. He had to explain, had to let her know, but the way her eyes met his with that anguished question he could do nothing, nothing to tell.

Emma was there, in between them. He saw her face for the first time that night, full of self righteous passion, "I think you'd better go."

His despair turned to burning rage as he gazed into Emma's face. "You think you're justified, Ms. Swan, but you know nothing, _nothing_ of what happened that night!"

"I think we know enough," Emma stepped back, putting her arm around Belle, whose mouth was still covered by those delicate hands.

The tears of joy that had clung to Belle's eyelashes were gone, replaced by misery. Harsh, real misery. No bliss- nothing but truth and grief.

She had just kissed a monster.

No.

His last look of Belle, her face full of torment and betrayal. He had caused her this anguish. It was his fault. It always had been his fault. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with regret.

He didn't remember leaving, he didn't remember stumbling down the dark path after Henry, the little prince long gone by now. He didn't remember stumbling into a tree, but he remembered furrowing his nails into the rough bark before pushing himself further, further as though the distance could do anything. No. It could do nothing. This would resound in his soul forever.

The knife in his soul was so much worse than any jagged edged dagger. It kept twisting it's way deeper into his chest, piercing parts of him he hadn't known existed. All hope, all desire- He found himself clawing at it, as though he could rip an actual knife out and toss it away. It harrowed up his soul, wracked him with torment. He howled bitterly into the night, more monster than man, the sound turning into a choking sob.

He had lost her. He was doomed to remain a beast for all time.

Sooner or later he tread on asphalt instead of dirt, his cane no longer sticking into the ground. Mangled, wretched, he found himself walking towards a destination. A destination he needed to reach. Reach before anything happened. Before anything could happen to her.

~: Emma :~

The girl did not cry, which surprised her. She remained flat, no emotion on her pretty face, staring out the window without her seat belt on. Emma let it slide, for now, because the car ride was far too thick with deeper emotions than Emma knew how to handle. To be honest Emma didn't even dare open her mouth. It scared her how stone cold this girl was being.

As soon as Mr. Gold had left, Isabelle had coolly asked if they could go visit her father. Emma hadn't been able to refuse. The drive through the dark was too haunting for Emma's liking, she decided. She turned on the stereo system in her car, a familiar CD in the disc player.

Blaring into life, the female voice sung, "_When I grow up I'll be stable! When I grow up I'll turn the tables-_." Emma switched the song. Not appropriate for this girl.

"What was that?"

Emma turned to Isabelle at the tone of terror in her voice, whose back was pressed against the seat, staring at the speaker as a new song came to life, wide eyed and nervous.

"Sorry, I listen to music loud," Emma turned down the volume, her voice apologetic. When she listened to music that was.

The melody, a guitar, strummed to them as Isabelle edged her way back into comfort. Emma left it.

"_I don't want you to give it all up, and leave your own life collecting dust."_

Isabelle started again when it started speaking, listening intently.

"_And I don't want you to feel sorry for me. You never gave us a chance to be. _

_And I don't need you to be by my side and tell me that everything's alright, _

_I just want you to tell me the truth. You know I'd do that for you."_

Isabelle's mouth was a line, and she was looking pointedly out of the window again. 

"_So why are you running away? _

_Why are you running away? _

_Cause I did enough to show you that I was willing to give and sacrifice-._"

Emma flipped the song. Enough of that. There was already enough depression going around. She didn't need Hoobastank making it worse.

"_You know the bed feels warmer sleepin' here alone_."

Ah, good song. Emma sat back with a confident smile spreading across her face.

"_You know I dream in color, and do the things I want._

_ You think you got the best of me, you had the last laugh _

_I bet you think that everything good is gone_

_Think you left me broken down, think I'll come runnin' back_

_Baby you don't know me cause you're dead wrong_

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, stand a little taller!" Emma joined in. Singing along, she wouldn't have noticed anything else but Kelly Clarkson's lyrics and the road in front of her if she hadn't glimpsed the girl's face when she flipped her hair back dramatically.

Isabelle was staring at her.

"What?" Hadn't the girl heard of singing along before?

"It's nothing…"

The song wasn't as good after that. Emma turned off the music, grumbling inwardly. She couldn't help but feel guilty, and she hated it. She didn't need to feel guilty. Mr. Gold did.

~: Mr. Gold :~

He found himself at Regina's house, pounding on the door until he heard Regina's clicking heels.

She opened it without checking, or else surely she would not have opened it at all, "Do you know what time it is-?" her voice stopped at the sight of him, fear in her black eyes. He must have looked a sight, covered in filth and looking more bedraggled than she'd ever seen him.

Good. He had her attention.

She tried to slam it closed, but he yelled, "You will listen to me, please."

Gritting her teeth, she opened the door a little wider. "What?"

"You will stay away from Belle- you won't have anything to do with her-," why now could he not remember his full proof web of words he'd made for this occasion, "Please."

"She found out her father, did she?" Regina smiled. Her Majesty's wicked smiles often sent people quivering with terror. For him, it was quivering with rage. Loathing- this woman had separated himself from Belle for decades. Precious time he could have used, could have cherished. Now he had no time. She motioned for him to follow her inside. "I was wondering when that would happen. And now you're not going to be able to be around to protect her."

"Stay away from her," he snarled, stopping at the entrance to her living room.

"How about we make a deal?" she smiled, her voice mocking, leaning towards him, "If you stay away from your precious Belle," she simpered, and he clenched his jaw, "I will not allow harm to come to her by any action of mine," she paced away, letting him think over it, though she knew that he was hers. He would say yes of course. He could in no other way convince Her Majesty to not search for a loop hole in his words.

"And when I mean stay away, I mean walk across the sidewalk when she's coming your way," she stepped back towards him, holding a glass of wine she must have put down earlier, her voice sounding lethal, "when she comes into your shop, tell her that it's closed and that customers aren't allowed in, when you see her at the grocery store you leave it. When she calls you don't answer." She stopped dead in front of him, staring at his face, a predatory smirk at the edge of her purpled mouth, "If she comes to your door begging to fall back into your arms again, _you tell her no_. Do you understand?" her eyes flashed, malevolent.

To never see her face again, to never see her smile, to never hear her laugh. He had lived with it once before. For Belle's life he could do it again. Would do it again. "Will you keep your word?"

She had him. She had him exactly where she wanted him. A cat with a rat in it's paws.

"I promise I will not be the first to break this treaty," she grinned, sitting down, leaning back against her white couch. "It suits me very well," she crossed her legs, looking up at him expectantly.

"Then yes," he agreed, bowing his head, "You have yourself a deal. And you will keep it, please," he added, glaring down at the malicious Queen, who took a sip of her wine.

"Done."

~: Emma :~

"Look, I know you work tomorrow, but I seriously don't know what to do," Emma whispered furtively into her cell.

"You shouldn't have told her. It wasn't your business," Mary Margret scolded tiredly from her phone.

"He was kissing her- who knew what else an experience man like Mr. Gold could do that poor girl," Emma answered, looking in to see Isabelle patting her father's sleeping face, holding his hand in one of hers. She turned away from the scene. It was private. "You've seen her. She's like the most innocent thing on the planet. What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Mary Margret sighed into the phone. "I'll meet you up there, ok?"

"Yeah, but hurry," Emma told her, watching the nurse walk towards them nervously. It had been a bit hard to sneak Isabelle in to see her father after hours, but as the town sheriff, and convincing people that no, she wasn't the convict from the pictures that now hung on every sign, door and window throughout the town.

"You big baby." Mary Margret hung up.

This was more of a mess than she had bargained for. She had expected Isabelle to be angry, angry and weepy and loud. But this? She had turned to a statuette, a lifeless doll almost as she continued to look down at her father with little to no emotion on her face. It was eerie, and painful, and all Emma could feel was guilt. Feeling guilty made her even more frustrated however. It wasn't her fault. She hadn't hurt her. It had been Mr. Gold that hadn't told her the truth. And if he'd hurt her in some way, the man was going to rot in jail.

~: Mr. Gold :~

It was a risk.

He shouldn't have done it.

He ghosted through the door to find the house empty, but her things were still there. He took moments, precious moments, inhaling her scent, feeling a scrap of bedding, and lay on top of the open fairy tale book on the bedside table his most prized possession, with his scrawled note.

Thievery overtook him when he saw the mug on the counter still. Chipped, still unwhole. He snatched it up greedily, and then, took one last look around his cabin.

Only that afternoon she had sat at that table. Only mere hours before she had kissed him there against the wall. Had forgiven him.

It was amazing what could change in minutes.

He was gone, wind in the night, this time taking his car with him.

~: Isabelle :~

_You_ _cannot feel anything. You cannot feel anything_.

"So just, you know, gather up your stuff and we can head down," Emma's words meant nothing. She wanted nothing. She wanted only to leave this place.

"We'll get you home," Mary Margret's words were false. She had no home now.

No, she could feel nothing. _Nothing_. She convinced herself. If she felt anything, everything would break through. If she didn't think she didn't feel.

She obeyed Emma, walking mechanically into her room. She straightened the bedding out, pushing it neatly into flatness. _He could not come home to a messy house, now, could he?_ No! She stopped the fissure before it snapped. She would not remember. She had no memories. She picked up scattered clothing and began to fold without thinking.

The books…

The books were everywhere, so many of them, all picked out by hand-

"No," she whispered to herself. She would hold firm-

And then she saw it. The tea cup.

It sat there on her open fairy tale book, the chip still in the rim.

He had kept their tea cup. He had kept it all this time, even in this cruel world, he had kept their tea cup.

Her fingers laced around it, tears forming in her eyes as she felt her wall crack. But from the tea cup fell a note. She bent, picked it up automatically. In his spiked handwriting, it read, _So you'll always have a way to look back, and remember me_.

She began to shake, reading and rereading the words until her hand shook too much and her eyes were too blurred to read. The tears spilled, and the crack in her wall burst open.

~: Mary Margret :~

"What's taking so long?" Emma's arms were crossed, a sure sign of her discomfort.

Mary Margret kept herself from snapping at her, "Just let her take her time."

"The man beat up her father. She should be angry. She should be throwing things, and breaking stuff. Something," Emma's tone was exaggerated, irritated.

"She isn't you, Emma," Mary Margret reminded her.

"I know that," Emma tapped her foot against the floor, "I would have wanted someone to tell me."

Mary Margret huffed impatiently, "You shouldn't have -."

An intense cry split the cabin. Emma ran forward, but Mary Margret stopped her, her face furrowing in sadness. The cry turned into heaving wails, and Emma stopped struggling to get rid of her grasp, understanding.

"She's crying?" Emma asked in shock.

"Wouldn't you?"

"No," Emma flinched when she heard the shriek.

Mary Margret glared at her, before moving forward, leaving Emma behind her. She stepped through the door, to find Isabelle curled up on the bed, around a chipped tea cup, her expression so heart breaking Mary Margret couldn't find it in herself to say anything. She made her way towards the bed, and sat on the very edge by her head.

Mary Margret listened to the anger in her tears, the rage, the sorrow, and wished she could do more than just sit there and listen. Mary Margret knew though that being alone would not be the best thing for her. So she sat, and felt, rather than heard, when Emma leaned against the door.

As her wails turned into shuddering gasps, Mary Margret began to soothe the hair back from Isabelle's head, keeping the tear soaked strands out of her face. She couldn't tell her that it would be alright, because it never would. Not ever. So she just listened as Isabelle's breathing soothed, and waited until she fell into deep sleep, looking pointedly at Emma, who stared at the floor shame-faced.

"We're staying here tonight," Mary Margret whispered.

"I call the couch. There is no way I'm sleeping in Mr. Gold's bed," Emma said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Mary Margret turned her head from her friend. "I don't think either of us will get much sleep tonight."

She didn't know when Emma left, or when she herself drifted off to sleep, but it was full of unpleasant dreams of weeping girls and broken tea cups.

**A/N: now don't – freak out – *runs away from angry mob in terror***

**I CAN FIX IT I CAN FIX IT! Hopefully…**

**On a side note I used a lot of italics in this – oh, and a shout out to Inkblood for the idea of the radio- sorry I didn't use Leona Lewis though! Mayhaps later?**

**AND she will be curious about things again- it was weird not having her ask about the car and the music and the stereo system, but you all understand… :)**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Alright, I did have a few things I wanted to point out about the last chapter-**

**Mr. Gold could have ordered her to do as he wished, but Regina would have still done all she could to find a loophole and hurt Belle- I can just see it happening. **

**Belle is angry- wouldn't you be angry? Say the love of your life beat your dad to a pulp. I would be SO hecka mad, and way confused. (Well, not that anyone COULD beat up my dad – he's in the military) So that's why she didn't do anything to stop him leaving. **

**YOU GUYS ARE ALL AWESOME FOR REVIEWING!**

Chapter 17

~: Henry :~

"I'll have your bike fixed by tomorrow," Regina was saying as Henry just thought how grateful he was that it was Friday already.

They were driving to school today. It was raining outside so Henry couldn't walk the short cut, and Henry's bike was busted. Well, he'd busted it on purpose a block or two before he'd reached home the other night when he was late, and accidently managed to scuff up his knee pretty good so Regina believed he'd been playing around at with some kids before she'd gotten home, and he'd fallen off his bike.

But then she'd grounded him for playing outside without letting her know in the first place. So he'd spent three days inside, alone and reading the Once Upon A Time book under the covers when the Evil Queen wasn't looking and waiting until the weekend to be free again.

It was a whole lot less grounding than it would have been had Regina known that he had been looking for Emma and hanging out at Rumpelstiltskin's cabin.

Henry didn't normally lie. He didn't like to. He was afraid the Evil Queen would see right through him. But she was in a much better mood this morning than she had been since Friday- well, since Belle had escaped. It made him want to ask what had happened there.

Everyone at school had been worried about him on Monday when he'd gotten there, like he'd gotten hurt or something. When he figured out that the Daily Mirror was saying that Isabelle was an escaped convict who had tried to kidnap him Henry had been furious. Miss Blanchard had told him that it was ok, and that he name would be cleared up soon. He sure hoped so. Isabelle wasn't a convict of any kind.

"What are you going to learn in school today?" the Evil Queen was trying to get his attention again. Henry told her, still facing the outside world. The rain made it blurry, but he could still see people hurrying to get to destinations, different colored umbrellas, little kids stomping in puddles – didn't sound like too bad of an idea to him – and then to his surprise he saw the "Open" sign on Mr. Gold's front door.

What was he doing away from Isabelle?

Henry made a face. He knew what he was doing during recess.

~: Emma :~

"Well is she sane or isn't she?" Emma demanded, slapping her hand flatly on Doctor Archie's desk.

"Look, Sheriff Swan I can't just diagnose a patient sane or insane within six days of meeting with her. The process could take weeks-."

"Well we don't have weeks. Call her sane and she'll visit you twice a week for however long you need her," Emma said, trying to convince him. Isabelle needed to be able to integrate back into society. Immediately. Emma couldn't get Isabelle's name cleared if she didn't have the whole story backed up.

The Doctor was obviously not happy with the idea, "Sheriff-."

"You know as well as I do that she's sane, Archie," Emma ground out. She was sick of arguing with him. She was right. He had to know that.

"I seriously hope so or she's got us all fooled," Archie shook his head.

"How could she be tricking us?" Emma questioned angrily. Isabelle tricking anyone was a stupid concept.

"Fine," Archie said, Emma realizing with a satisfied smile that she had finally cracked him. "You win. I'll start up the paperwork- but she has to visit me four times a week. If she turns out to be clinically insane -."

"Thank you Archie. Let me know when you're done with that, and I'll be right over." Emma left the psychiatrist to his own devices, shuffling down the stairs and getting back into her car. Four times a week seemed pretty steep, but if that's what the Doctor ordered. She needed to get Isabelle's name clear so that the poor girl could work her way back into society. "Clinically insane," Emma muttered with a grumble.

The only thing that Isabelle could be called clinical for was the possibility of being clinically depressed.

They had gotten her down to Mary Margret's apartment around six that Tuesday morning, and Isabelle was still curled up in Emma's bed. Well, that was a lie. Isabelle had taken to house cleaning while they were away, sweeping, mopping, dusting, dishes, even started repainting part of the wall- but by the time Emma got back from work around eight every night, Mary Margret had told her that Isabelle had already gone to bed. So Emma never saw Isabelle out of bed, but that girl was sure antsy. She needed to get out of the apartment asap.

Mary Margret had had to leave for work every day, and when Emma left that first day she told Isabelle to stay in the apartment. Isabelle hadn't said anything to Emma since, but Emma was sure Isabelle'd gotten the idea, since she hadn't wandered around or gone any place.

She made a face in the rear view mirror.

Monday night had been far more painful than she'd thought it would have. It reminded her of how she'd cried after Graham had –

No. She wasn't about to go down that road. She stopped herself, both hands on the steering wheel and flipped on Kelly Clarkson's "Stronger" again.

~: Henry :~

Henry was becoming a pro at sneaking away at recess. Ever since he'd started running off to see Emma, he'd been more and more stealthy, moving incognito until he was home free.

However, he'd never tried to sneak away from recess that was inside.

It had to be raining today.

He had managed to inch his way towards the door, until he was clasping the handle behind his back, watching his classmates warily as they played with action figures and made crafts with colored paper. Miss Blanchard bent over to speak of one of them, kindly helping them with the scissors.

His moment of opportunity.

He opened the door and bolted around it, letting the door gingerly close behind him as he did so. When it closed almost without a noise, he grinned in success, and turned to race down the hallway.

"Henry?"

Miss Blanchard poked her head out of the door.

"Rats," he whispered under his breath, rotating around on the spot to face her as she followed him into the hall.

"What are you doing?" she asked him, a curious expression on her face.

"I'm- going to the bathroom," he invented.

Mary Margret gave him a "I can tell when you're lying" look, stepping into the hall after him and said, "The closest bathroom is that way, Henry," she gestured down the opposite side of the hall.

"I know. I just was worried about – ." Henry stopped, sighing. She'd caught him, and he couldn't lie to Miss Blanchard. She was his grandmother, after all, and she was Snow White.

"Now where were you really going?" she asked kindly.

"I was going to go see Mr. Gold," Henry mumbled as Miss Blanchard crouched down in front of him.

She looked troubled at that, "Why were you going to see Mr. Gold?"

"He's at his shop today. I thought he'd be up – that he'd be with Isabelle," Henry spoke quietly as to not attract attention. Isabelle didn't need any more attention.

"Well," Miss Blanchard seemed uneasy, putting both her hands on his shoulders, "Emma told Isabelle about what happened with her dad Monday night, and she was pretty upset."

"What happened to Isabelle's dad?" Henry asked, confused. Why did that have anything to do with Mr. Gold?

"He stole from Mr. Gold," Miss Blanchard sighed, looking downcast, "and so Mr. Gold got very angry at him. You remember when Mr. Gold was in jail, right?"

Henry nodded that he did. He'd seen Mr. Gold behind bars first hand, remembering that the Evil Queen had let Emma go get ice cream with him. He'd asked Emma why Mr. Gold was in jail, but she said that he'd just done something bad. He assumed he'd been stealing, or something similar. But Henry had shrugged it off and had began talking about Operation: Cobra with Emma instead. If he'd known then that Mr. Gold was Rumpelstiltskin he would have been a whole lot more curious.

"Mr. Gold hurt him pretty bad. He had to go the hospital," Miss Blanchard explained delicately. Well duh. You didn't steal from Rumpelstiltskin and live to hear the tale. Had Mr. French been insane?

Henry couldn't really tell Miss Blanchard that, though, "Well if he stole he should get in trouble, right?"

She seemed astounded by what he had said, "But it wasn't Mr. Gold's job to hurt him. Nobody has the right to hurt somebody else," Miss Blanchard replied, and then added, "Unless they've hurt somebody else. With Emma as your mom you should know that."

In this world maybe, "So why's he not with Belle?" Henry wondered, and then amended himself when Miss Blanchard gazed at him, confused, "I mean, Isabelle?"

"Well, you see, Isabelle heard what happened," Miss Blanchard nodded, removing her hands from his shoulders, "and Mr. Gold got really sad, and left."

"What? I don't get it," Henry's forehead furrowed like his mom's did.

"Isabelle's mad, Henry, and Mr. Gold feels bad about it," Miss Blanchard said more blatantly.

Henry shook his head, frowning, "That can't work though- they're in love-."

Miss Blanchard shook her head too, shrugging, "Sometimes, love doesn't always last, Henry."

No, not again. This couldn't be happening to them again. He stepped backward, as though if he did he could see the whole picture. "They must be so miserable right now."

"Isabelle is," Miss Blanchard nodded sadly. "But this is for the best, Henry."

"No, this isn't! Its wrong-," he paused mid sentence, something clicking in his head, "So that's why he was making a deal with Regina that night!" Henry gasped, understanding something at last.

"What?" Miss Blanchard asked, startled by his outburst.

"Well, I heard someone knocking Monday night, and when I got downstairs it was Mr. Gold!" Henry felt it linking in his head now. He had been worried about what had been going on, and he had assumed it was because Mr. Gold was putting the Evil Queen in her place. Rumpelstiltskin always had been the one pulling all the strings in the end.

"What was he saying?" Miss Blanchard wanted to know.

"He was about to leave, but I heard him say, "You have yourself a deal," what'd he make a deal about?" No. He knew what he made a deal about. It had something to do with Belle.

"I don't know about any deal," Miss Blanchard was shaking her head again.

"Oh my gosh- Miss Blanchard, please can I go talk to Mr. Gold!" Henry begged.

"No, Henry, you're in school right now," Miss Blanchard told him point blank. She had to say that. She was his teacher.

"But this is serious!" he pleaded, trying to make her understand, "You could be stuck in this place forever!"

"I like teaching school, Henry," she smiled teasingly, touching his nose with her forefinger, though Henry knew that she knew that that was not what he meant.

"Miss Blanchard, please!"

"Henry," Miss Blanchard stood up, "I can't let you go now."

"But Miss Blanchard-!" he couldn't go off to Mr. Gold's Pawnshop after school- he'd get into so much trouble, and then he'd be grounded _again_.

"I said not now, Henry," she said, but not as harshly as he would have thought, as she stood up, "I didn't say anything about twenty minutes before school's over."

Henry looked up at Miss Blanchard in amazement, and then leapt forward to hug her. "You're the best Miss Blanchard!"

She patted his back as they walked back towards the classroom, "If your mom finds out I'll lose my job."

"I'll be super fast, I promise!" Henry told her, grinning from ear to ear.

"I believe you." She really was the fairest of them all. Well, and fairest as in pretty too.

~: Mr. Gold :~

Mr. Gold slammed the phone down on the receiver. He hated caller id.

He had to get a hold of that apartment complex, and he had to get a hold of them now. If he was going to have to walk out into this sordid weather to go to see the bleeding receptionist, he for sure wasn't going to be more pleasant in person than over the telephone.

He fell backwards onto his chair, his leg lancing with pain as he did so. The weather always made his knee hurt. He grimaced, his face assuredly more lined than usual. He loathed when it rained.

_It rained the day you found her again._

_ And it rained the day after you lost her_.

The weather was not going to be connected to her. He could not let it happen.

_Not again. Not when sunshine was already associated with her_.

He blocked it from his mind, moving back into what he had to do.

If he didn't get a hold of that apartment complex he would be furious.

Yes. Rage was easier.

The doorbell chimed. He looked up.

It was the little prince.

Why had his heart soared with hope? He guarded his expressions again.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" he charged in, his young voice commanding his attention. "Why did you make a deal with the Evil Queen?"

"Ah, back again I see," Mr. Gold sat back. _Thank the gods, a distraction_. He put on a mask, his goblin's mask, all for the royal pain. "What is it that you want this time, Your Highness?"

"Belle remembered, didn't she?" the boy was soaking wet, tramping in rain water and leaves that had stuck to his shoes. What a mess it was going to be to clean up.

"Ah, ah, ah. Inside voices please-."

"Didn't she?" Henry's little face was furious, "And then Emma had to tell her you beat up her dad."

"It must be a family trait to be obnoxiously interfering," Mr. Gold sneered, pretending to be at ease.

"Look, whatever deal you made with the Evil Queen it isn't going to help!" he yelled.

Ah, so the little prince knew of the arrangement, "It will keep her safe."

"That's so dumb!" Henry shouted, and then pointed at Mr. Gold, "You know no one in this town can keep her as safe as you can!"

"Yes I'm well aware of that fact." If only the bleeding receptionist would pick up at that apartment complex.

"Then why did you promise to stay away from her?"

"Because, little prince, she finally figured out that I am truly a beast," he nodded his head, opening his arms wide.

"But you love each other!" Henry exclaimed.

"Love makes us sick. Haunts our dreams, destroys our days," Mr. Gold gave Henry his best devil may care grin, flourishing his hands back into his lap, "Love has killed more than any disease."

Henry shook his head, fuming. "You're still afraid."

"I was brave once, Your Highness," Mr. Gold snapped, losing his patience. "Look at where it got me."

"You kissed her?" Henry wondered aloud, eagerly leaning forward across the counter.

Mr. Gold shut his eyes against the memory.

Henry was smiling now, "Then we can fix it! She knows now, so I bet we can-. I have to go, but I'll talk to her!"

That meddlesome kid scampered away before Mr. Gold could even yell after him, leaping through the door and onto the sidewalk. The door swung shut behind him.

Mr. Gold stared after the little prince, in shock.

Why even now did he let hope creep its way back into his heart?

The phone rang. Mr. Gold answered it. "Finally," he growled into the mouth piece. He'd been waiting for the apartment complex to call him back for at least four hours now.

"Um-m, Mr. Gold? You have 23 books due next week."

**A/N: Everyone I know this is kinda a filler, and a little shorter than normal but- forgive me, I have a test tomorrow. **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: …**

***GIRL SCREAM* OH MY GOSH YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! OVER 300 REVIEWS? IT'S A DREAM COME TRUE! *DANCES AROUND THE ROOM***

**You guys, I don't know what to say- no really though. You're awesome. **

**And thank you for all the well wishes on my test! They were really appreciated let me tell you. (Bio 3010. Evo. It's difficult.) **

**I really hope you enjoy this chapter. **

Chapter 18

~: Mary Margret :~

The bell for class to end was about to ring, and Mary Margret's life would be over. The Mayor would blame her for her son's absence, and Mary Margret would have nothing but her apartment and her roommates left in her life. Maybe David…

Where was Henry? He'd been gone for nineteen minutes! The kid was cutting it really close. The kids were getting their coats on to leave, lining up at the door-

Henry burst through it, his wet shoes skidding against the floors to a stop.

All the kids stared at his half drowned state, but he skipped right up to Mary Margret and grinned. "I think I can fix it!"

Mary Margret beamed back, "I'm just glad you made it back here safe. Cutting it a little close, don't you think?"

"Well, yeah," he grinned wryly.

Overhead the bell rang. The kids all filed out of the classroom in a jumble, Jill pushing Jack almost all the way over. "Have a good weekend, everyone!" she called out. One of her students waved but the little hand was gone before she could identify whose it was. Henry grabbed her attention again.

"Can I come over later?" Henry asked, looking up at her urgently, "I gotta see Isabelle."

"Henry, I don't know if that's such a good idea," Mary Margret said, looking down at him and patting his head. "You could get grounded again."

"Nah, the Evil Queen is pl-."

Mary Margret cut him off. "Who, Henry?" she corrected.

Henry sighed, and fixed the sentence, "Regina is going to start planning the Spring Queen Ball tonight with the committee."

Mary Margret nodded. She'd forgotten about the Charity Ball, held every March 21, the first day of Spring. "So you're safe for a little while."

"Yep!" Henry nodded encouragingly as she got the picture.

The kid was good. "Alright, then, hurry, scoot! Your mom is going to be waiting for you!" she said, ushering him out of the classroom with fervor.

"See you later Miss Blanchard!" he yelled, before disappearing into the hallway.

Mary Margret covered her small smile, shaking her head. Oh she was totally going to lose her job one of these days. Totally.

~: Moe :~

"Is everything alright, Mr. French?" the nurse asked as she walked in.

Moe French hurriedly hid the piece of scrap paper under himself. "O-oh, yes, I'm fine."

She looked at him, her eyebrows coming together in concern, "You're looking a little pale. Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. Don't worry about me," he smiled falsely at her as she refilled his water glass.

"Are you excited to leave tomorrow?" the nurse asked kindly.

"Yes," he nodded, and added in his mind, _More than you know_.

"Well, you know the drill. Ring if you need anything," the nurse told him as she left.

Moe nodded after her, before scrambling to reread the note again.

It was another one. They'd been appearing almost every night. The first one that had appeared at his side on Tuesday morning when he'd awaken read,

_Dearest Papa,_

_ I know they've told you I was dead, but I'm not. It will be a shock for you, I'm sure, but if you can find it in your heart to see me again on Saturday I will be waiting for you at home._

_ Love, _

_ Isabelle_

The next one had read,

_Papa,_

_ I'm glad to see that you're mending, that all seems to be going well. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you along. Oh Papa, I've missed you so much. Please don't let anyone know that I've come back. I'm trying not to cause a fuss, and I'm sure you've seen my picture in the Daily Mirror. However, you've got to believe me when I say I'm alive and I cannot wait to see your awake face again. I love you dearly._

_ Love,_

_ Isabelle._

Of course he hadn't told anyone. He didn't need them to think that he was getting mysterious notes from his own dead daughter and throw him downstairs in the asylum where she had been, so he had stayed quiet. Would stay quiet, at least until he saw her again.

_Dear Papa, _

_ I came again to see you last night, and you looked exhausted. I hope you're doing well. I love you dearly, and I will see you again tomorrow, awake this time. I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I'll try to answer them as best as I can. _

_ Love,_

_ Isabelle_

He loved to see her handwriting again. She'd loved to spell out words on a page as a child, spilling the ink bottle over by accident over his important papers once. He'd scolded her for that – wait, when had he had an ink bottle? It must have been water color painting stuff. That was much more plausible. His little girl had liked to draw.

"Mr. French?" the nurse popped back in. "The phone is for you."

Mr. French groaned. It was going to be the bank again. He was overdue on so many loans he was going to have to file bankruptcy for sure… what was he going to do then? He'd already sold his home, and moved into the tiny top most apartment in a complex near Granny's Diner this year. He'd sold his car. He'd done everything he could think of. He'd even pawned his wife's necklace, the only jewel they'd owned.

He picked up the bed side phone, an old corded contraption, and spoke into it. "Hello?"

"Hello Mr. French."

"Who is this?" he asked guardedly.

"This is just a notification, telling you that the apartment complex you live at has changed owners."

~: Mary Margret :~

Mary Margret trudged up the stairs to her apartment. That last half hour of class had been far too stressful for her liking. She got to her door, reaching tiredly for her key.

She stopped fiddling with her keys when she heard the music. It was louder, angrier than normal. The last times Mary Margret had come home it had been to Howard Jones and the Sound of Music soundtrack. It seemed like Isabelle had finally found Emma's music stash.

Mary Margret came in to find Isabelle painting on the walls again. She wore a beat up t-shirt and some painters pants Emma had donated to the cause, which Isabelle had to roll up several times. Isabelle was even shorter than Mary Margret, which was odd to her sometimes. They were just going to have to get the girl some heels.

"Welcome home," Isabelle told her with a smile. It wasn't a real smile, but it was at least a smile. It was something that she hadn't been able to do until yesterday. A step forward. Isabelle leaned over and turned the volume down on the music, gingerly using two clean fingers. The rest of them were covered in paint.

"Hi, Isabelle," Mary Margret walked in. The apartment was cleaner than it ever really had been. The floors shown, fresh paint was doing the atmosphere wonders, and the awful paint smell was smothered with baked goods and foods. "Did we run out of flour again?"

"No, not yet," Isabelle smiled abashed as Mary Margret picked up a cookie. "One of these days you all are going to have to let me out of here, so I can go to that grocery store you were speaking of."

"We're working on it," Mary Margret promised. "And then I'm taking you shopping. I think you'd like your own wardrobe." Though I'm not quite sure how this is going to work with my budget, but at least I can do this for her. And with Emma chipping in for rent it's been so easy to save. I just won't change my oil for another month.

"The phone rang three times today," Isabelle informed her, turning back to her work. Mary Margret smiled, looking over to the messages. At least one of those had to be David.

The first one was about the Charity Ball that was coming up, and how they were encouraging everyone to attend. Mary Margret sighed, and clicked to the next message.

"Hi, Mary Margret, it's David. I was wondering if I could stop by tonight-." Mary Margret grinned broadly and giggled. "Just to say hi. I just – I just need to see you. I haven't been able to talk to you for two days, and I don't know about you but – well, I guess I'll see you tonight?"

"Of course!" Mary Margret burst before she remembered that it was just a recording. She looked over to see Isabelle grinning knowingly at her. The next message clicked on with a beep.

"Hi, Ms. Mary Margret Blanchard, this is just a notification, telling you that the apartment complex you live in has changed owners -."

Emma barged into the room. "I am so sick of these stupid flyers!"

Mary Margret put the phone against her shoulder to listen. "What flyers?"

"These flyers!" Emma held up the picture of a very sick Isabelle with the words, "WANTED" over it. "I've been pulling them down all day! Madam Mayor reposts them every night I swear!"

"Did you get a hold of the newspaper? About Isabelle's true identity?" Mary Margret had helped Emma construct it late Tuesday night about Isabelle's acquittal as a criminal and that she was a harmless girl who had been falsely accused of being mentally insane. They'd given it to Sydney to see if he could get it in the paper.

"Yeah, and they printed it. In the middle of the newspaper," growled Emma, mashing up the "WANTED" poster and throwing it in the trash can, "I told him I wanted it front page!"

"It is in the newspaper," Mary Margret shrugged, trying to lift her spirits, "At least they took out the "Wanted" ads."

"Yeah, I guess," Emma slumped into a chair. She noticed Isabelle painting in the corner. "Hi Isabelle."

"Hi Emma," she acknowledged her with a small smile, "You're back early today."

"I know. Haven't seen you in a while. Good music choice," Emma nodded in appreciation. Isabelle smiled wider. "The Eagles."

"It's yours- I hope you don't mind," Isabelle bit her lip in realization.

"No not at all," Emma told her, "You're welcome to all my music, though we're going to have to teach you about iPods sooner or later."

"iPods?" Isabelle perked up at the thought of something new.

"Don't, Emma, I'm already having enough trouble teaching her about the television," Mary Margret pretended to be overwhelmed, but the facial expression broke into a grin.

"I like to watch the television, but I don't care to hear it," Isabelle said, pointing her brush to the corner where the team of NCIS ran with guns facing the ground.

"And she's already finished half of the Harry Potter series," Mary Margret gestured to the blue cover that read, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_ on the table in front of Emma.

"I don't like this one," Isabelle made a face at the book. "He's really mean."

Emma whistled, "You've been busy."

"Just catching up," Isabelle smiled, turning back to her painting.

"If I could get as much done as you do in a day, Isabelle," Mary Margret shook her head in envy, finally pulling off her scarf. "David's coming over," Mary Margret looked coyly over at Emma, who rolled her eyes.

"Great, just what I need on my night off," Emma complained, kicking her feet onto the table.

"Hey, just for a bit," Mary Margret said, sitting down next to Emma.

"Ruby said she was going to call. She wants to have a girls night," Emma smirked.

"We can't bring her over here," Mary Margret half whispered.

"I know," Emma grimaced.

"I'll just tell her that I'm busy. With David," Mary Margret bit her lip. She didn't like lying to anyone, especially her friends.

"Oh such a lie. Not like you'll be waiting for the door bell to ring all night," Emma said, a knowing look on her face. Emma knew he so well already.

Mary Margret narrowed her eyes at Emma. "You know what? We should order out." At least then she wouldn't be waiting next to the door or glancing at it every five seconds.

"Order out?" Isabelle asked.

"Pizza? Chinese?" Mary Margret tried the crowd. When no one said anything, she decided, _to heck with it_, "You know what, let's just get it all."

"What?" Emma blinked in surprise.

"Sure why not?" Mary Margret stood up to get the phone book. "That way we'll have left overs."

"We already have left overs," Emma grimaced, gesturing at the kitchen, where every available surface was stacked with all sorts and kinds of cookies, cakes, brownies, dessert bars and breads in the book, not to mention the delicate pastries and fudges that Isabelle had created in the last two days, "We have so many left overs we could have a bake sale."

Mary Margret cocked her head, "Actually, that'd be a good idea," and smiled conspiratorially with Emma.

"Can we start watching that movie that you like so much?" Isabelle said, recalling something, "The, um, the chick flick? Right? Chick flick? He's Just Not That into You, isn't that the one?"

"Ugh, no chick flicks," Emma groaned, pulling her feet off the table, "Let's watch something with action." Her hands made fists as she went over to their rather limited movie collection.

"Chick flicks have action," Mary Margret protested, "Well, a different kind of action," Mary Margret smiled mischievously when Emma threw her a pointed glance.

Emma rolled her eyes exasperatedly.

"What kind of action?" Isabelle said, cocking her head, knowing she'd missed the joke.

Both Mary Margret and Emma laughed.

~: Henry :~

Of course the Evil Queen would host the committee's first get together at her house. It left Henry trapped upstairs. He scowled from the top of the stairs, watching the Evil Queen welcome them all in.

Stupid fancy ball that everyone in Storybrooke had to attend. Nobody liked to go anyways. The Mayor was always crowned Queen. It just got boring.

How was he going to get out of the house? He'd already been caught trying to sneak down the stairs twice, and his excuses had been that he was hungry. Now he was supposed to remain upstairs until she said otherwise.

Rapunzel had had the same problem. She'd been stuck upstairs in a tower and had been unable to get down. That was until she used her hair. He didn't have that much hair. He sighed, frowning.

But he did have something else. And his tower wasn't quite as tall to climb down from.

~: Mary Margret :~

Pizza had come at 6, Chinese had come at 6:37, but still David hadn't come. Mary Margret glanced at the clock. It was past 8 already.

They had started a movie, a comedy/drama, which Emma had immediately declared as a chick flick, though it had sent her right to sleep. Isabelle on the other hand was watching Marilyn Hotchkiss' Ballroom Dancing and Charm School with immense interest, and had declared twice now that she wanted to learn to dance, still trying to get the hang of chopsticks. The movie was almost over, thankfully. The man was trying to get in touch with Lisa or something-

Emma was passed out on the couch next to Mary Margret. She'd had a hard week. She'd been campaigning for Isabelle's true nature to be reinstalled, plus her own work and then looking out for Henry whenever she could. With all the drama over the weekend, she was due for a break. She needed a deputy, or something. Who would do though?

And she had thought Henry would be here by now. The poor boy had seemed so desperate at school. Maybe he'd been caught in the act. Maybe the Mayor was grounding him again. She grounded that kid too much, and spoiled him in all the wrong ways. Mary Margret didn't like it. Maybe that was unfair though. Mary Margret didn't particularly like the Mayor, so she was already biased.

A knock came at the door. Mary Margret leapt up and hurried to the door.

David smiled at her as she opened it.

"Hi," she smiled brightly back.

"Hi," he breathed.

They laughed quietly, and Mary Margret shut the door behind her as she stepped into the hall.

He kissed her.

They hadn't kissed in so long now, hadn't kissed since they'd fought, and she relished in it. She felt so alive when he kissed her, as though she was asleep unless he was touching her, drugged and cursed and everything else felt so wrong in the world. He felt so right though.

"Um, Miss Blanchard?"

Mary Margret broke away gasping. "H-Henry-!"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, I just need to get past you really quick," the poor boy was blushing profusely.

"Of course- I'm sorry- that you had to- here- I'll let you pass-."

Mary Margret stumbled forward, pulling the door open awkward as Henry edged in quickly. Mary Margret closed the door, closing her eyes in embarrassment.

"Um," David stared her wide eyed.

She rested her head on the door, "That was my student."

He nodded slowly, "That was your student."

"He just saw me-," she bit her lip.

"He just saw us-," he corrected.

"Yeah-," They laughed quietly together.

"Sorry about that," she whispered.

"Don't be," he assured.

~: Belle :~

She'd started calling herself that again. Belle. It was her real name, after all.

And ever since she'd realized that there was a reason she couldn't remember anything about this world was because she'd never lived in this world, she'd done everything to immerse herself in it. She'd read the newspaper, watched the news on television, watched movies, though she was particularly liking the movie she was watching now. There were different countries, different languages to learn, and the words in her own language that had changed- she had so much to do, so much to see, and after 28 years locked away in an asylum, she wanted her mind functioning on the highest level she could make it.

For now she was trying to figure out how to use these two sticks to pick up oddly flavored noodles and vegetables and watch this dancing movie. It was truly making her want to take up dancing. She wished she were dancing with the main actor at that moment… or more precisely, have gone to visit him at his bakery...

She had abandoned her chopsticks and was curling up with a pillow, blushing, when the door opened.

A moment ago Mary Margret had stepped out, with David Belle assumed. She smiled when she heard the door shut again.

"Isabelle," a boy's voice said.

Belle turned around in her seat, "Henry!" she felt herself blush to her roots.

"We've gotta talk," Henry's voice sounded urgent, but he did a double take at the screen, "What are you watching?"

~: Mr. Gold :~

He had closed up shop a while ago, but he was still walking around. His knee was still throbbing uncontrollably after the rain of earlier. Thankfully the weather had cleared up, and he was able to walk at all. He wanted to exercise it a bit. And the pain kept his mind off of her.

He winced as he overstepped, and regained balance.

Pain was necessary. It was all he could allow himself to feel.

He ground his teeth together to emphasize that fact.

Would she listen if he spoke to her? Would she just listen? He didn't know. He wouldn't blame her if she didn't. He had so many things he wanted to say to her.

A quailing thought shot through his mind. He could never speak to her again.

Well, that wasn't strictly true.

He was betting on Emma and little Henry breaking the curse. It was prophesied. He wasn't one to go against prophecy. So whenever they got around to doing so, and her Majesty was gone, banished, killed, slain, strewn about on the streets in all her gory glory, well then he felt he could speak to Belle then. If Emma and Henry got around to it, that was. It was already taking long enough for them to get back the rightful king and queen, let alone the rest of the members of the Enchanted Forest.

He began to walk quickly, impossibly impatient with the entire situation.

He couldn't be thinking about her. He couldn't be thinking about this. He had things to do. He had to get those bills paid, and find a legal way to do it without letting them know. So far there was no way to do it.

~: Belle :~

"It's really cool that you remember," grinned Henry, "and it's really cool you can make the best sugar cookies in the world." He took a bite out of one just to prove his point.

"Don't eat too many," Belle told him, tilting her head to look at him, "I don't want you getting sick."

"I won't," he promised. "Now, why I came-."

"Do you want a glass of milk?" Belle asked, hurrying to retrieve a glass from the drying rack.

The movie was over now. It was rolling through credits.

"You're trying to distract me," his small voice was annoyed.

Belle bit her lip, drawing the milk from the refrigerator. "I am."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to talk about why you came," she said, her back still facing him.

"But Isabelle," Henry tried, "You've gotta try!"

"Henry, it's just not meant to be," Belle put the milk back in the fridge, "Love doesn't always last forever."

"But yours does! It has to!" Henry exclaimed, pounded the table lightly.

"Says who?" Belle turned to him finally, putting her hand on her hip.

"Says me," Henry made a determined face. Belle felt her heart pang, sorrow tightening around it like a vice. It was too much to bear again. No, she couldn't have there be a third time, and have him spurn her again, or ruin it in some way.

"He put my papa in the hospital Henry," she shook her head. It was unforgivable.

"He didn't mean to, I'm sure of it," Henry was making up excuses for him. She tightened her mouth.

"How do you know?" she gave him the glass of milk.

"I don't," Henry said, but rallied, "But neither do you."

Belle shook her head. "I don't know if I can face him."

"You're bored in here, Isabelle. You've read like half of the book case already and listened to almost all of Emma's and Mary Margret's CDs. They're keeping you cooped up here. Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't do that-."

"He did do that," Belle jabbed at him. "He did, remember?"

"Belle," Henry said, "You're the bravest heroine in the whole book. I know Snow White was a thief for a while, but she didn't choose that life, and then she chose to forget Prince Charming. Cinderella made a clumsy deal and it hurt her in the end. Jiminy Cricket, Hansel and Gretel, all of them. You're the only one that chose to do anything, and you chose to do it because you were brave and selfless. You were brave enough to fall in love with the biggest villain of them all," Belle turned away at that, "And you learned that he wasn't the biggest villain, but the loneliest man. You can still save him Belle."

She felt the tears form fresh in her eyes. She was shaking. "Henry, I-."

"Be brave again, Belle. You can save him. You have to prove he's on our side," Henry smiled at her as she turned back to him.

How could one little boy know her so well?

"Alright," Belle said, her voice quivering, "but-."

"But?" Henry's face fell.

"You have to show me that book first," she told him, her smile wide, feeling real for the first time in days.

Henry pulled his back pack off with a grin. "Deal."

**A/N: ACK! **

**Guys I'm sorry I posted this so late. It really wasn't my fault this time. I was just watching a movie. Can you guess which movie? Can you guess why I was watching said movie? Haha! It was good. **

**Anyways, again, thank you so much for over 300 reviews! You guys are positively phenomenal! No really though! **

**Belle has a deal with Henry. **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N : Thanks to all the reviews from the last chapter. I know it was boring, so I made up for it in this one. Trust me. **

**Oh! And the movie I was referring to in the last chapter was another movie with Robert Carlyle in it. He was a widower finding love again- haha. It's called Madam Hotchkiss's Ballroom Dance and Charm School… it made me laugh. Also, I've discovered I love his hands. **

Chapter 19

~: Henry :~

The problem, he realized as he ran half way home, was not getting out of the tower, but getting back into the tower. That's why Rapunzel had never left. He understood it now.

He looked up at the make shift ladder he had made an hour ago. It consisted of his bed sheets, his blanket and a jump rope. What had he been thinking?

Well, he'd have to try it. He couldn't have the Evil Queen finding him outside of his room. At least he didn't have the book dragging him down. He'd left it with Belle to peruse. If anyone could keep his book safe it would be Belle, though she'd probably finished reading it by now.

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He could do this.

He leapt up the rope ladder and began to climb. How had, Rapunzel's Prince, Done this, Every Time? No wonder he had wanted her to come live with him at his castle! This, was too much, work!

Henry finally made it to his window, which he clambered over, swinging his leg over the side of the window and rolling into it, panting. He'd made it. He'd made it safe and sound without –

"Welcome home, Henry."

Henry leapt up, and saw the Evil Queen sitting at the edge of his striped bed, her face livid. _Oh no_.

~: Emma :~

The phone ringing woke Emma right up.

Grumbling, glancing over at the clock to see that it was only 9:42 on a Friday night and she'd been passed out on the couch, she tugged her phone from her pocket, and mumbled into it, "Sheriff here."

"Sheriff Swan, would you get down here?"

Emma straightened immediately, sitting up, "Madam Mayor?"

Mary Margret and Isabelle, who had been putting left overs away in the fridge, paused. Mary Margret stepped forward.

"Get down here!" shouted Regina.

"What seems to be the problem?" Emma asked, pulling on her shoes. "Did we find Kathryn?" She looked at Mary Margret, who looked down at the floor.

Regina huffed into the phone, "No, we didn't. I need to talk to you about Henry."

"What happened? Has he gone missing? Is he ok?" Emma demanded, her pace promptly picking up as she attempted to tie a shoe lace on handed.

"He's fine. I would just like to know where he's been in the last hour and a half," she spat into the phone.

"Well I can assure you he hasn't been with me," Emma said, her urgency decreasing. She glowered at the floor as though it were Regina's face. "You've threatened to get me a restraining order if I see him, remember?" And she had been avoiding the kid as much as possible, and he'd been good about staying away from her as well. He knew better than to come to her apartment.

"He's missing his book, and he won't tell me where he left it. Where else would he leave it, Ms. Swan, except with you?" Regina snapped.

"He really hasn't been here to see me, Madam Mayor," Emma retorted. "Come up here and I'll prove it to you. There's no book here."

"I can't," Regina rumbled.

"What?" Emma couldn't understand. Sure she could. Just because it would take a minute of effort-.

"I can't get up there!" Regina shouted so that Emma held the phone away from her ear. "I've been – prohibited – by your new landlord."

"We don't have a new landlord," Emma shook her head, not understanding.

"Don't - play coy with me," Regina sounded dangerously on the edge. Emma could picture her now with flames fuming from her nostrils.

"I'm not," Emma shook her head.

"You really don't know anything, do you Ms. Swan?" Regina was annoyed.

"No, I really don't," Emma agreed, her face still puzzled, standing up to pull on her jacket.

"Fine," she said curtly, and then, hung up.

"What?" Emma spoke into the phone. "Seriously? I just put my coat on!"

"Emma?" Mary Margret stepped forward timidly. "Henry was here."

Emma blinked, "He was?"

"Yes," Isabelle agreed, holding up two or three cookies with small bite marks in them. "He was testing out my cooking- and he did leave the book here." She exchanged the cookies for the large, brown leather bound volume.

"Ugh, great," Emma slumped back into the couch. She'd just lied to the wicked queen or whatever Henry called her. She was so in for it.

~: Moe :~

Mr. Gold had bought their entire apartment complex, and then was giving him rent free for the next three months until he got back up on his feet? Moe hadn't been aware that the man had a conscience, let alone a heart.

But that wasn't the reason Moe was hurrying home that day. No. He'd been told that his daughter would be there, at home. He knew she was supposed to be dead, but that felt so long ago, and he didn't even remember what had happened to her. Someone had said suicide with razors, that she couldn't take the strain of reality anymore or something.

The stairs were proving to be far too hard to get up, taking more energy than normal, and the apartment was at the very top of the apartment, more of an extra attic than an actual room. Well, he had been in the hospital for a few weeks, he told himself, huffing for breath. He scrambled to get his keys at the top of the apartment complex, and dropped them. Annoyed, he stooped gingerly to pick them up.

The door to his apartment opened. The smell of muffins and freshly baked bread seeped into the air. He looked up to see her there, framed in the doorway. His daughter, taller than he remembered her by a little more than an inch, and very, very much alive, because her smile was too perfectly like her mother's to forget.

"Isabelle?" he asked.

"Papa!" she rushed into his open arms, and he pulled her close. Joy filled his heart. It wasn't a lie. It wasn't some trick. His daughter was alive! His daughter was there and smiling. "Papa I've missed you so much!"

"I've missed you too, darling, darling, princess," he hugged her tightly, as though the harder he held the less likely she was to disappear into thin air, "I got your notes."

"Did you?" she sounded euphoric.

"But you have to tell me everything. What happened?" Moe wanted to know, trying to look into her face, but his eyes were blurry.

"Oh Papa, there's so much to tell," she said hesitantly.

"We've got time, now," he nodded at her, and they walked into the apartment. "Apparently you're a convict now, breaking and entering houses and stuff. Should I call the police? She's moved in downstairs."

"Papa!" she told him with astonishment in her voice, "I'm not a criminal, and I'm not insane. They were lying when they told you I was."

"I often regretted that," Moe said, bowing his head. "Every day after you were gone…"

"There's nothing you could've done, Papa," Isabelle was so forgiving, just like her mother. She looked up at him in earnest then. "Do you… do you remember?"

"Remember what?" he wondered.

"Remember why… why we're here?" she was anxious, her delicate features worrying.

"Well, I couldn't pay off my debts," Moe admitted, shame faced.

That obviously was not what she wanted to hear. She sighed.

"But don't worry, Isabelle, we've got a fresh start now," he told her as she moved away from him. "Mr. Gold's paid for everything."

She turned sharply, "What?"

Moe was nodding. "Mr. Gold said he would pay off all my debts to the bank, all the medical bills and he said he would let us live here for free until we got back on our feet again."

"He did-?" Isabelle looked truly shocked, her face filling with hope.

Moe shrugged easily, "Obviously he felt really guilty."

"Oh Papa!" she exclaimed, rushing to him. "Papa I've got to go!"

She hugged him tightly around the middle, kissing his cheek in a hurry, before letting go. Moe was left a little shell shocked, "But-."

"There are muffins on the table!" she told him, stuffing her shoes on her feet, "I'll come back later!"

"Isabelle!" he shouted after her as she closed the door behind her, but she hadn't heard him. She was gone. He heard her feet on the stairs as she reached the landing below.

Yep. That was his daughter. If it had been his imagination she wouldn't have left in such a hurry. As it was, there was no doubt in his mind. Sighing, shaking his head, he sniffed the air again. Now about those muffins.

~: Belle :~

He really was sorry. Henry had been right. He'd paid her papa's bills, had given them a place to live for free, a place protected from Regina, because he'd bought it, for her. He had given her their tea cup- that had been the first, and very best sign. The chipped cup sat next to her beside, where she gazed at it until she fell asleep… He was sorry.

And she had never been one to hold grudges…

Isabelle ran down the stairs. It was ironic that her father's apartment was only three stories about Mary Margret's and Emma's apartment. Not ironic, but wonderful. She couldn't have been more pleased with it. It meant that when she moved back in with her father that she could come visit them whenever she wanted.

Both Emma and Mary Margret were out- Emma at work, Mary Margret meeting with Jill's parents, one of her students from school. Isabelle had often snuck out at night when they weren't paying attention. She hadn't been able to sleep much, so she left them at the dead of night.

She dressed up in dark clothing, stealing away into the blackness that wasn't blackness in Storybrooke. There were lights that were always coursing with electricity, always windows with lights streaming out of them. It was always bright, almost like day, and it made it hard to sneak about in. So she had learned not to sneak, but to walk, her face buried in a scarf and her hair and forehead hidden by a hood, hands buried in pockets and eyes wide, absorbing everything she could. It's how she'd visited her father in the hospital.

Now it wasn't night though. She could still hide away in a scarf and a hood, but she would have to lower her gaze. She pulled on a jacket with a hood, and wrapped a scarf around her mouth and neck before throwing the hood over her head. She would have to move quickly, and without notice. If she got caught she didn't know what would happen to her. They would take her to Regina, maybe? Would the Evil Queen lock her up again? But how could she, with so many allies on her side now. Emma, Mary Margret, Henry, Mr. Gold… Mr. Gold.

He heart beat in her ears, thundered as she gulped down air.

She could forgive him. She already had forgiven him. She had never been one to hold grudges, no matter how hard she tried. Especially with people that she loved… But she had questions for him, that he had better answer. So many questions. She would demand answers. He could not be elusive this time. Not when she stood in front of him and demanded them. He wasn't going to win her back without them.

And yes, she loved him still. She had read the story in Henry's book over, and over again. She'd read about his despair after she had left, had learned what the Evil Queen had planted in his heart, the belief of her death.

More furiously still, that the Queen had said that her father had harmed her in that way. Her father would never do that to her, though she hadn't exactly returned to him after she had left Rumpelstiltskin's Dark Castle. The Evil Queen had said that she committed suicide, something that Rumpelstiltskin should never have believed. She couldn't see herself killing herself, but then, she had never been tortured the way that the Evil Queen had described. What was more though, was that it explained why he'd never come after her, why he'd never saved her… Did it explain why he'd hurt her father?

She could see Rumpelstiltskin's fury, could see his pent up rage… it would make sense. It was still inexcusable. He knew that though. _He knew that though_…

She wrote down a note to Emma and Mary Margret, telling her where she had gone, and that she was fine.

As a last thought, she grabbed the tea cup, holding it gently in both of her hands, before leaving the apartment. Her only debate now was where to go- his house, or his shop?

~: Mr. Gold :~

His court date had been today. For that he was grateful. A distraction. The hole didn't hurt so much today. He had had something else to focus on, even though the focusing made his head pound and his ears ring. What he really dreaded was the night. He feared the hours of darkness where nothing was there to engross his attention, except for the agony, the bitter regret that saturated his mouth and choked his lungs of air. He felt his stomach fill with dread at the thought, swallowing it down so it melded together with the regret to make him nauseous.

_Love makes us sick_.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your house?" Emma's voice called out to him from the blur that he'd been in.

"No, no, back at my shop, please," he told Emma, watching the world pass by in the dusk. He couldn't go back to his house. He didn't want to fall into that pit for several more hours yet.

"Alright," Emma said with a shrug.

They drove in silence a little longer.

"So, how have you been?" Emma asked awkwardly.

"You don't have to make small talk, Ms. Swan," Mr. Gold told her listlessly, still not looking at her, "You can just ask me what you will."

She was tentative, "It's about Isabelle."

"Anything but that," he said through gritted teeth, feeling his heart constrict.

"Why did you beat up her dad?" she demanded.

She was trying to get information out of him. What else had he expected? "He stole."

Emma rolled her eyes as she turned the corner to his shop, "Yeah, but what'd he steal that pissed you off so bad?"

"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" Mr. Gold smiled lifelessly. Nosy investigator of this sordid world. Didn't she have anything else to do in the world? Like watch after her nosy investigator of a son?

"I'll make them ask you that in court," Emma challenged.

"Do that," Mr. Gold nodded at her, mocking her resolve. She came to a screeching stop at the front of his shop, her glower burning holes in everything but him. He was not fazed by her. He got out of the car, bending over to see her fiery eyes. "Thank you Ms. Swan, for the ride."

"Anytime," she grumbled, her mouth tight.

He closed the door, and she sped away. He chuckled darkly after her, before rotating to face his shop. He entered with a sigh, all his treasures lined up from lifetimes of accumulating, and they were now accumulating dust. He shut the door behind him, looking around once more, before walking slowly to the counter he sat behind.

The leather swivel chair with wooden arm rests was ready for him. He slouched back into it, resting his tense leg in front of him. Back to the sickness, the fresh, all consuming, bitter regret that was his new cage in this cage of a reality.

He turned to his desk.

And froze.

There, on his desk, was the cup, the white porcelain delicate structure of a tea cup, with the chip in it. The chip in it. He swallowed, and then stood up, searching frantically around the room for her. He heard a small giggle, and swiveled, gritting his teeth at the pain in his leg, to pinpoint the sound. He couldn't see her.

"How did you get in?" he demanded, his eyes darting around to the corners of the room.

"Flimsy locks," she told him, echoing words not her own.

His mouth tightened at the phrase, his mind jumping to Her Majesty, "So you've read the boy's story."

"I have," she spoke decidedly. It sounded like it was coming from nowhere and everywhere all at one. It was more frustrating than he would have before believed.

"And you've learned how to be a ventriloquist," he ground out. She was here to torture him. Or worse. He was cracking under the strain. He could see himself doing that. He could see how it would be so easy to believe that he was making this up. This was a dream. Belle would be far too angry with him to be here. But she had never been able to hold a grudge.

"It's one of the few things one can do without books to read and nowhere to go," she teased. "I never liked to be bored."

That was the truth. Even when she was at Dark Castle, she had done everything she could to stay busy. It had been exhausting to watch sometimes.

"Are you – real?" he found himself asking warily, stepping out from behind his desk, taking the cup with him. He hated the way it sounded, so desperate, so lonely.

"Very real," she vowed.

Ha. It was more of a dream to him. "Prove it."

"You have the proof in your hands."

He looked down at the tea cup, felt it in his long fingers.

"You took the mug," she acknowledged.

"A trade, if you will," he said slowly, half donning the old goblin's mask as he rotated, eyes looking, eyes always looking.

"You always loved a bargain." He could see her smile, her knowing eyes. Where was she? Was she even real? "But I think I got the better end on this deal."

The mug and the tea cup. Both held such value in such different ways. "You're not "proving" anything, _dearie_," he sneered at a corner, taunting, "Come out come out wherever you are."

"I always wished you wouldn't call me 'dearie'," she sighed, sounding frustrated herself, "You call everyone that, especially when you're angry with them."

"I am angry with you," he pointed out, glowering around the room. She shouldn't be here. If her Majesty found out- a thrill of fear shot through him, a new found urgency to find her grasping at him. He needed to find her.

"Apparently," she grinned.

"You shouldn't be here. You should leave," he told her, harshly, trying to make her angry, make her leave. He couldn't stand this for much longer. He needed her to leave. Needed her to go now, before anyone saw, before her Majesty saw-

"Why?" she sounded hurt, not angry. Wrong reaction. It made guilt well up in his stomach.

_You already have enough fun tormenting me from far away. I don't need this phantom to add to my anguish_, "I made a deal with the Queen." Better to tell her than not to.

"What?" Her ventriloquism stopped short, gasping.

He spun on the spot, and found her behind him, hooded and swathed in a scarf, her eyes bright and horrified. He stepped closer to her, and she stepped backwards, right into one of the display cases. She'd been hiding near one. Caught, pinned between him and his trophies. The irony.

"I made a deal with her Majesty," he repeated, folding his hands over his cane, but still gingerly holding the precious tea cup. He watched her shake herself, gather her courage before he could think of anything to stop her from doing so.

"But- why?" caught, she stepped towards him. He stayed where he was, not showing fear. But he was afraid. Afraid of her. "I thought we were past dealing with her."

"I never pass up a good deal_, dearie_," he uttered the last word on purpose to bridle her. It worked. There was that familiar crease in her forehead.

"Don't call me that," she snapped, pressing on, "What was the deal?"

"For your safety," he tilted his head in her direction as she approached him, "I am to keep away from you, and right now, you're breaking the deal."

"You think that staying away from me will keep me safe," she puzzled, her steps carrying her closer and closer to him. He fought the urge to step away, feeling his heart beat thrum faster in his ears.

She took one step too far, and he leaned away, trying not to look at her mouth, "Oh, most definitely."

"I don't think it will," she breathed, her smile slow, her eyes flicking up to meet his. He felt her fingers reach around his that clasped the cup, and began to disentangle them delicately. He felt his fingers shaking as hers laced around his.

He took a deep breath, before answering smoothly, "It depends on what you count as safe, dearest."

She smiled at the changed nick name, her eyes bright and wide. Open. Innocent. She had already managed to remove three of his fingers that had been clasped around the tea cup. "Break the deal. You already have the apartment where I live. She can't harm me there," her voice was barely above a whisper, her voice sure and steady.

"Ah, she can't harm you there. That means nothing compared to her magic or her henchmen," he reminded her, speaking in the same quiet tone, but it was hesitant, unsteady.

She grinned, and finally took the cup from him, "I'll buy a lock." She held it up triumphantly, her smile enchanting as ever.

He turned from her, hands on the counter. "Get away from here, Belle."

She didn't say anything for so long it made him panic. He wanted to turn around, to see if she had really gone. "We're even, you know."

"Even?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her. She wasn't looking at him, but was cradling the tea cup in her hands.

"You sent me away once, and I sent you away once," she spoke softly, "We're even. Don't throw us out of balance all over again."

"Wrong. Emma sent me away," he corrected, half rotating to face her.

"Not wrong," her eyes locked onto his, conviction there that he couldn't argue, "Emma was saying what I was feeling."

"Well, in any case, I'm sending you away now. Leave," he gestured towards the door behind her.

"No." The word was quick to her lips and there was no hint of a smile anymore. Her eyes still focused on his face.

"I said _leave_," he ordered, stabbing his hand at the door.

"No." Her face was set, determined. More determined than he'd ever seen it. She stared him down.

He felt a scowl form on his face as he whirled to stare at her, "Don't try me," he warned.

"I'm not leaving you." She shook her head once, her eyes poignant and true.

He stepped towards her threateningly, but it was she who didn't back down this time, "You were supposed to be angry at me!" he shouted, his hands fisted.

"I was, but now I want answers," she said calmly, evenly. She was not afraid of him. How could he be so afraid of her? "You know I've never been able to hold a grudge," a small smile ghosted around her mouth.

It made him tighten his lips, "I won't apologize," he growled, trying to think of anything, anything to keep himself from thinking that she was right.

"You already have," her voice was kind, sweet. She stepped towards him again, tearing down his fortifications with every footfall, "You paid my papa's bills, his debts, and I can only fathom how much that cost you, because I know my papa. He was always fond of gambling on business ventures and odd schemes. You are letting us stay for free in our apartment. If you were not sorry you wouldn't have done this."

She spoke true. She knew about it all. How fast the world was unraveling around him, blasting apart his walls he'd built.

"You will not get your precious answers," he spat savagely. Another wedge in between them.

She was only inches from him again, her eyes holding great sorrow. "You believed my father tortured me and I killed myself because of it."

She knew the answers already…

_She had been dead_. It shot through him like a fresh arrow, leaving him gasping, "I – I did."

"I'm sorry," and she was sincere as she reached to touch his face, "I didn't mean to cost you that much heart ache."

He jerked back, "You assume a great deal," he told her selfishly.

"I probably do," she let her hand drop, and she smiled sadly, fiddling with the tea cup again, "Then again I was always the hopeless romantic."

He barked a laugh at that. "Yes. You try to hide it."

She laughed herself, "I've never been good at hiding things."

"Belle," he spoke in confidence now, a whisper, urgent. She needed to leave, before he cracked and the deal with her Majesty was broken. "You have to leave. Now. Before anyone sees you here."

"I won't leave you," she shook her head firmly again, looking almost like a mulish child.

"This is not the time to be stubborn. Go. Live. Get a job, go to college, be something," he gestured at the door again, leaning a little too closely.

"I can still do those things without leaving you," she pointed out.

He hung his head, "I don't want to think of what she will do to you if you don't go."

"Then don't," she said it so easily, "She won't hurt me. You made that deal in haste, Rumpelstiltskin. It was folly. It won't benefit you, it will only benefit her. Since when do you make deals like that?"

_When it benefits you, dearest_. "It benefits me."

"No it doesn't, and it doesn't benefit me. We're going to have to break this curse, together, Rumpelstiltskin," she peered into his eyes then, hers so iridescently cerulean that they must have been part of the sky once.

Her words were folly. Folly, and yet truth rang in them.

"We can't be seen together. You'll be in danger, even more danger now because I've broken the deal."

"Then we'll keep it a secret," she spoke, whispering the words onto his lips.

He could not resist her anymore.

Her logic was flawed – there was nothing they could keep secret from her Majesty, but her mouth pressed timidly against his, and he felt his hands grasp either side of her face, holding her there, pulling her closer, the hood falling from around her hair. He drew in her light, her strength, her bravery – the Brave Beauty and the Cowardly Beast- he would never possess courage unless he was with her. He needed it, needed it desperately as his fervor heightened.

She pulled away, gasping, but he caught her again, turning so that her back was to a counter top. She inhaled sharply as he tore the distracting scarf away from her face. Her tender caress was enticing, intriguing, but he needed more, more to consume the light that was her –

She cried out when he roughly pressed her into the countertop, his ferocity too much, but he didn't let her free. She had come to him. She had asked for this- She was his.

"I knew it!"

A bell chimed a few feet away, startling them back into reality, shocking them apart.

"I knew it would work!"

Henry stood in the doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

Rumpelstiltskin had had enough of this boy and his mother, he thought as Belle straightened her shirt. Glaring in monstrous anger he stared at the indignant prince, wondering what fate would be best to bestow upon him. He felt like changing the little prince into a frog, and send him hopping. He lifted his hand, felt the magic come –

And stopped.

The magic stayed, swelling painfully in the tips of his fingers. He knew automatically that he had to let it go, and shot it straight into the air. Lightning crackled, attached itself to the nearest light fixture, and the lights in the room went out.

Rumpelstiltskin looked at his hands, flipping them from their palms to their backs over and over. They were Mr. Gold's hands, but –

With a cackle he sent lightning into the air again- Belle squeaked and Henry laughed out loud. Magic.

"I knew she could do it!" Henry cried over the sound, he declared, jumping up and down. "She broke your curse too!"

"But – how?" Belle said, her voice muted.

Rumpelstiltskin inhaled, exhaled deeply, spinning to face her, his eyes wide and alive. He grabbed her face again, and kissed her square on the mouth, before he danced away in delight. He magicked his cane into his hand, realizing a half second later that he didn't need it. His leg didn't hurt- "Ha ha!"

Henry was hugging Belle excitedly, "You did it! You did it!"

"What did I do?" Belle wondered. She sounded worried.

There was no need to be worried anymore. He could watch her. There was nothing her Majesty could do now to harm her. Magic. He had magic again. The idea was completely and totally impractical- it was nothing like this world should be, but he felt it there again, at his beck and call as it had been in the past. It was because of her. She had done it- Belle.

"Belle!" he cried, taking both of her hands in his, and spun her around the shop into his arms, "Beautiful, lovely, little Belle!" he kissed her again.

He never knew he would feel so light with her there. Not a burden. Not like he had feared. She was the magic. She was the light. She was the source of everything.

She was smiling at him, but her face was full of worry, that little crease in her brow.

"Don't worry," he told her, "Everything will be fine, you'll see."

"You still have this face," she whispered, touching his human skin, peering into his eyes. "How?"

"I don't know, but it's absolutely wonderful!" he wrinkled his nose at her, and she wrinkled it right back. "You," he turned to Henry. Henry saluted with a smile.

"Yes sir," he stood to attention.

He flicked his finger at the door, "You get out of here before you become the next frog prince."

"But I was looking for Is- for Belle," Henry said, sounding distraught. "Emma's searching for her everywhere."

Rumpelstiltskin growled under his breath, before his eyes snapped onto Belle, "We can't breathe a word." He put his finger to her lips, and she smiled sarcastically.

"Not a word," she promised, kissing his finger.

He kissed her quick, and watched as she wrapped that infernal scarf around her mouth, drawing the hood over her beautiful hair. Leaving. But not for good this time. Just for now.

"We gotta hurry," Henry was peeking out the front door. "The coast is clear!"

"I'm coming!" she told Henry, looking wistfully back at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Wait!" he told her, glancing at the tea cup. It whisked into his open fingers. "Take it with you." He handed it tenderly to her.

She smiled at him. He couldn't see it, buried as it was beneath her scarf, but he saw it in her eyes, her wonderful, blissfully blue eyes. She took the cup, her fingers lingering-

"Hurry!" Henry ordered.

"Goodbye!" she whispered, and then, they were gone. Rumpelstiltskin stood at the door, watching them run into the night, disappearing behind a building.

However, the curse could not withhold magic from him anymore. He could watch over her now, wherever she went. Her Majesty wouldn't lay a finger on her ever again.

**A/N: Fourteen pages later- what'd you guys think? :) **

**(P.S. Rumple finally got his magic back… XD) **


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Guys, Henry's a friggin' genius. Just thought you should know that. **

**I'm really REALLY sorry for not posting last night. I know people love that I'm consistent with my chapter updates, and I'm really sorry that I didn't post. I meant to. I honestly did. I had a few more revisions to make, but I fell asleep. . At ten. On Friday night. It was a serious problem! Still is. But at least that chapter wasn't a cliff hanger! **

**Also, there are a lot of explanations in here. I just like clarification- also, **

Chapter 20

~: Belle :~

Henry had grabbed her hand, was dragging her down an alley.

"Stay low!" he told her, crouching down. She followed suit, staring from beneath her thick hood. They'd just gotten out of Mr. Gold's Pawn Shop, and she still had the tea cup clenched in her fingers. She watched for something, like Henry was watching.

A black car streaked by.

"Was that her?" she asked in a hushed tone, waiting for Henry to do something.

"Yeah," he panted.

"Is she after me?" she wondered, a thrill of terror shooting through her.

Henry smiled a bit, "No, she's after me. I'm supposed to be grounded for sneaking out last night," his breathing was calming, a scowl forming, "I'm sick of her rules. She isn't even my mom."

Belle frowned at that. It was true, and the boy was right about his adoptive mother. She was evil. However, if she knew his mother at all, and she thought she did, he was in huge trouble. Didn't he know "Why're you here?"

"Emma came by. She demanded to know where you were, if you had her," Belle could picture the scene, Emma barging into their house, Regina glowering and not saying a word unless it was a threat, "I kinda freaked out, but I thought I knew where you would be. So I booked it over here- or well, I booked it over to Mr. Gold's house, first, but then no one was home, so I ran here."

"You do a lot of running," Belle smiled slightly, stowing the tea cup gingerly into her large coat pocket, keeping one hand wrapped around it.

"You have no idea," he told her with a grin, straightening his legs but keeping low. "I'ma go check to see if the coast is clear." He pointed his thumb at the entrance to the alleyway.

"Alright," she watched him as he poked his head out into the street. He nodded for her to come forward, and she did. "You're a great Prince Charming, Henry."

"You should read more about my grandpa," he smiled back at her, straightening up. "He's the best there is."

"He'd be proud of you if he knew," she took his hand, and was reminded about how only a week ago she and Henry had run through the forest up to Mr. Gold's cabin as they started off towards her apartment. She asked a question that had been intriguing her for some time, wondering if the ten year old knew the answer. He'd had many answers thus far, "Henry, why was the curse on Rumpelstiltskin and me so easily broken, but not on Mary Margret and David?"

"I don't know- I have a theory that true love's kiss breaks the curse, but only for the individuals that are in love- I think that's why you remembered first, because you were in love with Rumpelstiltskin, and he was still afraid to be in love with you," he explained.

That made sense. She felt a smile bloom across her face. He loved her now. It was how he'd gotten his magic back. She had another question for him now, "So you think Mary Margret and David are afraid to be in love with one another?" her voice sounded muffled by the scarf, but he was understanding her fairly well.

"Yeah," Henry said matter of factly, even though he seemed sad by it, "I mean, David is supposed to remember being in love with Kathryn, at least according to the curse, so Mary Margret is terrified that she is going to have her heart broken, and David feels really guilty about not loving Kathryn, and so he doesn't know what to do. It makes perfect sense."

"It does- I really suppose it does," she weighed his words on her mind, "Are you saying in order to break the curse we have to, I don't know, have everybody kiss their true loves?" she thought of that, how impossible that would be.

"No, no," he shook his head fervently, his brown hair wild with the action, "because in stories like Hansel and Gretel, they're brother and sister, and stuff. No, they've just got to not be afraid anymore. They can't be afraid that they're going to end up sad. You're not afraid of that now, are you?"

"No," Belle smiled from beneath her scarf.

"It's just that the kissing helps, I guess," Henry made a face, and Belle giggled at his wrinkled nose.

"It really does," she told him. He shook his head at her teasing. She asked her next question, "So, how are we going to do it?"

Henry paused and they walked for a moment in silence. "Well, we can't do it," Henry finally answered.

Belle was taken aback, "But why?"

"Because- Emma has to be the one to do it," he smiled at the air before him as he walked straight ahead.

"Emma?" Belle was surprised. Emma was the one who had to break the curse? Did she even believe in it?

"Yeah," Henry grinned proudly. "She's the white knight, the one that has to destroy the curse in the end. I mean, we can give everyone their memories back, but we'll still be stuck here. You and Rumpelstiltskin aren't back in the Enchanted Forest," he gestured at her walking next to him, "so I've still got to work that part out. She's the key, I think."

Belle shook her head, "You have an amazing family."

"Tell me about it," he beamed proudly. He looked all around him momentarily, as though thinking they were being followed. Well, they had been followed, but, not by a physical body, and not by an enemy. "So, you think he's watching us?"

"Oh most definitely," she smiled waving at the sky. "He likes to pry," her smile turned sarcastic.

"At least he's on our side," Henry sounded relieved.

Belle was surprised by that, "How do you know?"

"What'd you mean?" Henry said, as though it made perfect sense for Rumpelstiltskin to be good. Rumpelstiltskin had never been exactly "good."

"He's unpredictable, that Rumpelstiltskin. He prides himself on it," she smiled, wondering how he liked the sound of that. It was true though, just as it was true that he was watching them. She liked the comfortable feeling, knowing he was always there.

"Yeah, but you're on our side, aren't you?" Henry's eyebrows were pulled together with concern.

She grinned at him, teasing, "Well, it is _our_ side, isn't it?" She shook their adjoined hands.

"So that means he's on our side too!" His smile was back. She liked his logic, but it was wrong.

Belle smiled fondly at that, "I hope so."

"What? But, he loves you," he said it so blatantly.

"And I love him," she acknowledged, and to her immense surprise, felt the ghost of a finger pushing a curl back into her hair. "That's cheating," she whispered to the air.

Henry didn't hear her, "So, doesn't that mean you're on the same side?"

"Not exactly. Rumpelstiltskin was always one to fight for whichever side benefited him most. Maybe the Evil Queen has something that we don't," Belle shrugged at him.

"Well, she used to have you, but now we have you, so doesn't that mean we win?" he grinned.

She could only smile at that, tilting her head, "We'll see."

"But if he's not on our side, does that mean that-?" he looked at her worried. He was worried that their love would be erased, but Rumpelstiltskin hadn't been able to eradicate their love before, and she hadn't when he'd fled from the cabin, so it wasn't going anywhere.

"No, I will still love him…," she let those words fade into the night sky, before adding with a pointed glance at the heavens, "I just won't love his choices."

"You sound like Miss Blanchard when Jack and Jill fight at recess." Belle laughed outright at that, thinking of Miss Blanchard crouching before the unruly children. "Can I have my book back?" Henry asked her.

"No not yet," she felt guilty, but at the same time, they'd had a deal.

"Why not?" Henry made a face.

"Well, I'm writing up a copy for myself on some paper, so that way I know the stories and in case you lose it or something," Belle said truthfully. She'd already started, using the white paper from the mouth of a machine she didn't understand yet. A printer, Mary Margret had called it.

Henry's eyes lit up at the idea, "Yeah, that could be useful!"

Belle asked her next question, "So how are we going to convince your mom to believe you?"

Henry sighed, looking downcast, "I don't know. Emma said she believes me, but I can tell she doesn't really."

"Hmm," Belle pondered, rotating the tea cup around in her pocket, "I think about it. You too," she said, looking at the sky to Rumpelstiltskin, wherever his eyes were, before continuing, "I'm assuming nobody else knows?"

"Yup," Henry agreed.

"So it's just me, you, Rumpelstiltskin, and the Evil Queen," she listed off.

"Yep," he agreed again.

"And we have to pretend we don't know about it so the Evil Queen doesn't get us," she continued.

"Well, she knows that we know. Well, she doesn't think that I know like I do, but yes. One of the reasons she had you locked up here in this world was because I think you remembered a lot," Henry told her, and then added hastily, "But we can't let her know about Rumpelstiltskin's magic."

"Agreed," she nodded quickly. "And Henry- Is the Evil Queen the Miller's Daughter from the original tale of Rumpelstiltskin?"

Henry nodded sadly, "Yeah- but-."

"Isabelle! Henry!" David came running towards them, stopping Henry mid sentence. "I've been looking for you everywhere- Emma's worried that the Mayor took you - again."

"No- no," Belle smiled, shaking her head. She felt guilty, "Call her and tell her that we're fine."

"I gotta run," Henry told her as he backed up and then took off.

"Boy that kid can run," David said in appreciation, watching Henry sprint up the street and out of sight.

"He does it a lot," Belle explained with a smile.

~: Moe :~

Moe woke up early, like he often did these last few days. He had to get to his shop.

Life had a new meaning now, since Saturday. Before when he'd been getting up he'd been slow and miserable. Now that his little Isabelle was back in his life, he was up and at 'em at four thirty. Isabelle was asleep of course, but when he came home for lunch she would be here.

She was hope he'd not had when he'd stolen the van from Mr. Gold, and all those other things. He still thought that it had been weird that the Mayor had wanted the cup from him. It was broken. What kind of value did it have?

He was about to leave, when he had the urge, like he did every morning, to go look in the closet of a bedroom Isabelle was sleeping in. It was just to make sure his little girl was safe. That she was real. He'd confirmed that she was real though when Miss Blanchard and the Sheriff had been up to visit her on Sunday, and then the Sheriff again yesterday to inform her that the town psychiatrist had officially declared her sane. What two odder friends could she have made in a week?

There she was, sleeping on mattress- they hadn't been able to afford a bed for her yet, so they were making do and she hadn't complained. Well, she never had been one to complain. She was sleeping- she'd obviously been working on something though. In her hand was a pen, next to her a notebook of paper. An odd, leather bound book was open to one of the few last pages. Next to it-

Why on Earth did his little Isabelle have that broken cup? That was Mr. Gold's! He'd taken it right from his house a few weeks ago. He made a face, narrowing his eyes at it suspiciously through the gloom. He didn't know what to make of it. Despite everything Mr. Gold had done to apologize, Moe was still wary of him, wary of what he could do to them if he wanted. Mr. Gold had been willing to evict a few nuns from a place he owned because they were going to be late on the due date.

He would ask Isabelle later. Now he was going to be late to set up shop.

~: Belle :~

She woke slowly, feeling the dawn from the window spilling onto her face. She loved light. Ran on it. She fell asleep quickly when night rolled around. Mary Margret had teased her, saying that she was "Solar Powered."

A ghost of a hand flitted across her cheek.

"You don't play fair," she told him, burying her face in her pillow. "Maybe kissing you again was not the best idea I've ever had."

The hand withdrew at that, as though swatted away.

She smiled, rolling over so she was staring at the ceiling, giggles quickly turning into laughter at his easily offended self. She could tell he was questioning.

"It's not fair that you get to see me and I don't get to see you," she told him, though she'd already said this. "That I look insane when people come to visit because I'm talking to the sky." Maybe she was insane though. Maybe he wasn't even really there, and she was-

The hand was back again at her face. She touched where she felt it, and smiled softly. "Now, you go away. Today is the first day I can go out in public and I plan on looking my best." She rolled onto her feet, making her mattress up neat and tidy, and set the book she was almost finished copying, the notebook with all the copied scribbles, the almost used up pen and their cup in her treasure box. She'd already started to make one out of an old cardboard box. Treasuring things because she'd had nothing of worth for so long.

Archie Hopper had signed her release papers yesterday, which meant that today she was going job "hunting." And, if she could manage it, she could go see Rumpelstiltskin without anyone noticing it.

"No, I mean it," she told the presence. "Go." It wasn't as though she didn't like him there, it was that she wanted to surprise him with the end result. Well, she couldn't really surprise him. She had only a few things to wear still, and not much make up, and in the end he wouldn't care anyways. She probably wouldn't see him today anyways. She'd tried for the last three days to go and see him, but it had been unsuccessful on each count. Now that she wasn't known as the town lunatic, or the town's kidnapper, she could go out into public without worrying the population, or so she hoped. She could even get a job.

She needed a job. The money would help buy a dining table and a few chairs, since they had been using the single couch and the coffee table as a place to eat. They also needed kitchen supplies. They had little food, and only a pot and a frying pan with an odd assortment of silverware. Her father said that they had had to sell a lot of things in the move here, but Belle promised him they would get this house straightened up as soon as they could.

Well, and besides that, Belle needed to repay Mary Margret and Emma for their kindness. They had given her so much, and she had nothing to offer them but cookies and treats made with their own baking supplies. That was where her money would go first.

He was still there.

She started to pull of her pajama shirt.

In an instant, he was gone from the room.

For all his claims to be a monster, he was very gentlemanly, she decided with a small smile as she pulled the shirt back into place over her stomach.

~: Emma :~

She was so sick of those stupid posters she could scream. She had people on her side, helping her pull them off signs, off bulletin boards, off the windows of buildings and off light posts, and still they were places that she didn't think could have posters. Mary Margret had had her class remove them from around the elementary school building. At least they were out of the children's faces.

Archie had declared Isabelle sane a day ago, paperwork and all, and now Emma was walking around with Isabelle French, helping her find a job when she had asked. How could she refuse? Isabelle needed the job, and she'd never had one. She hadn't even known what to do.

Emma's first reaction had been Granny's Diner, but Ruby had told them that they were fully staffed for full time positions, even though she would have really liked for Ruby and Isabelle to work together.

"There aren't many new people around Storybrooke that disappear for like eons and then come back," Ruby smiled, and winked at Isabelle, "We'll have to catch up sometime."

"Yes," Isabelle had nodded slowly.

Ever since then every store they had gone to seemed overstaffed as it was, but when they took a look at Isabelle, and recognized her, despite her story and claim, they automatically said no. Without even listening as Emma explained what had happened. Emma tore down a poster as she stalked out of a department store.

They had been at this for hours now, and poor Isabelle was getting more and more downcast with every no she got, with every sideways glance that she was given, how everyone gave her a wide berth and pulled their purses and children in close as she walked by. Propaganda. Stupid propaganda that everyone around this town believed because of that witch of a Mayor they'd installed on her throne.

"Emma!" Isabelle called, catching up to her. "Maybe we should take a break?"

"No," Emma ground out. "We're going to find you a job where they at least give you an application and an interview." Just saying flat out no to one of the best workers- heck, best _people_ Emma had ever met was seriously ticking her off. She was going to find Isabelle a job by the end of today or she would die trying. _Man_, she half paused, thinking about the expletives that she had used there in her own mind, _watching your mouth around the Kid has permanent side effects_.

Isabelle half skipped to keep up with Emma's long, determined strides, "Emma, don't worry about it."

"How are you supposed to buy groceries and pay the rent?" Emma demanded, rounding on her and coming to a standstill.

Isabelle tried and failed to give an explanation for that one, though maybe that wasn't entirely her fault. Emma was glaring daggers, not really at her, but at whatever her eyes fell upon.

"I rest my case," Emma began to walk again as though she hadn't missed a beat, trying not to feel guilty about scaring Isabelle out of her speech capabilities.

Isabelle huffed, before following her down the street. Her speech came back to her quickly enough with one of her questions, "What's the Spring Queen Charity Ball?" Isabelle asked her.

~: Mary Margret :~

_Where had the weekend gone and how could she get it back?_ She wondered to herself, grading papers that Tuesday afternoon.

She had decided that Tuesdays were the worst days. Mondays you came back feeling fresh and ready to start life up again, while Tuesdays you realized life wasn't fresh at all, and you got back to your regular routine, except that there was no hope for the weekend relief yet. Wednesdays you could at least see over the hill to the weekend. Thursdays were the best because you could daydream about all the things you could do for the weekend as soon as it rolled around. Fridays you were home free. Tuesdays were the worst.

At least David said he would stop by after work today. That was always a good sign. A sign for hope. David was the best part of her life.

She missed Isabelle in the house when she came home though. Isabelle had moved back upstairs with her father. Her father had gone back to work on Monday too, so Isabelle had gone with him. She had learned about jobs, she said over the bowl of ice cream she and Mary Margret had had that night. She wondered if she could be a school teacher like Mary Margret too, or something. She would work at her father's business, but it wouldn't be bringing in extra income, something that Isabelle said she needed.

Emma had come home then, dishing herself a bowl before Isabelle had asked her if she'd help Isabelle look for a job. Emma had agreed, and then declared the good news, throwing down Isabelle's paperwork that declared her mentally stable. It had been more of giggling celebrations after that.

Mary Margret was letting Isabelle borrow her books, which she took the best of care of, and read quickly so Mary Margret didn't notice if they left the shelf or not. She'd finished the Harry Potter books in a week. She still had Henry's book too, but that was probably because the little kid was grounded for a month. He'd been caught climbing in through the window late the night David had come over last, and then he'd gone out of the house anyways, to help search for Isabelle. Regina had never been more furious.

Regina came right to the door of Mary Margret's classroom to pick up her son, and kept him locked away at home. Since she had no proof to pin it on Emma, she was forced to pin it all on poor little Henry, who was getting gloomier and gloomier by the day. Tonight Mary Margret would ask Isabelle for the book back. She knew it would cheer the kid up.

There was a knock on her classroom door. Mary Margret looked up as David walked in the room, smiling.

"David!" she stood up with a smile to match his. She hugged him, and he picked her up off the ground until she laughed at him to put her down, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you. I missed you," he said, pressing his forehead against hers as he kept her close.

"I missed you too," she confessed, and they laughed quietly to one another.

"What'd you teach your kids about today?" David asked.

Mary Margret couldn't really remember, not with David's rather delirium-causing presence before her. "We're still on fractions."

"Ah, the dreaded fractions," David chuckled, thinking back to it. He made a face, looking at her, "I still hate fractions."

Mary Margret paused, before agreeing, "You know, me too."

They laughed together at that.

"So, um," David said, obviously changing the topic. "I know that there's this ball coming up, and that everyone has to go on penalty of death or something."

Mary Margret nodded. It was true. You always showed up to the Spring Queen Charity Ball. For one it helped the charitable organizations around Storybrooke, but two, and more importantly, as soon as you were eighteen you almost felt forced to go, the compellation that strong. Mary Margret remembered her first time at the Ball, and remembered hating it. She'd never had anyone to go with. Maybe this year would be different?

"And I was wondering, since I have no memory of ever going to one, if you would, accompany me," he stared hopefully into her eyes.

"What? Me?" Mary Margret was taken aback. He was asking her?

"Would you like to go to the ball with me, Princess?" he repeated more blatantly. The word princess felt so perfect spilling from his lips, so _right_.

Snow W– Mary Margret felt the smile spring onto her face. "Of course J- David! I'd love to go with you!"

She kissed him then, despite the spike of headache that lanced through her head.

~: Regina :~

Henry was awful quiet today. She felt like checking up on him, but knew that there was no way the boy would leave again. It was Emma. She was corrupting him. How on Earth was he supposed to reign over Storybrooke with her one day if he stopped following in his mother's very misguided footsteps. Regina was his rightful mother, and she was going to raise him right.

She was working on an outline for her speech for the Spring Queen Ball, when they awarded her the prize. It was the only reason she tolerated the celebration. She should have never let it start, really, but with so much royalty all cooped up in one drab city they had all banded together once and had wanted it. She had let them have it. She was a good Mayor after all, listening to her people when they needed to be heard. And she couldn't lie that the first one had appeased her vanity. Since then, she'd made it almost impossible to miss, encircling magic around the occasion until slowly, everyone felt compelled to go.

No one ever ran against her as Spring Queen, but then again, who would? She had a winning personality here. It was her Happily Ever After of course, and it was her ball.

Something upstairs fell over.

Regina stood up, staring at the ceiling. "Henry?" she called.

When the boy didn't answer, she clicked her way quickly up the stairs. Had he been hurt? Had he tried to sneak away again?

The answers to both of those were no, she decided as she unlocked the door to his room with the key. He was fine, he had just toppled the little car box off the shelf, which had slammed, scattering across the floor in every which way. He was picking them up now, a blanket tied around his neck.

"Sorry," he said apologetically as she stood, framed in the doorway.

"Be more careful, Henry," she scolded, "I don't want anything happening to you."

~: Henry :~

_Yeah, no kidding_. Nothing ever did happen to him. The Evil Queen drove him to school, she picked him up from school, she took him home, she locked him in his room. She'd nailed the window shut. They ate dinner promptly. She came in to turn off his lights at nine.

He was stuck.

He didn't even have the book to distract him. He hoped Belle would be done with it soon. He didn't even really know how long his sentence was. He probably shouldn't have snuck out the second time when she'd grounded him from climbing out of his window, but he'd been worried that Belle had been captured again.

Instead, Rumpelstiltskin had his magic back.

That at least was some comfort to Henry. Belle had said that they weren't sure that he was on their side. That was why it was only some comfort.

~: Moe :~

He came home to find Isabelle making ramen noodles. He wasn't disappointed, but he was surprised. Normally the girl was cooking something elaborate. Then again, elaborate was something they really couldn't afford.

She looked downcast, but smiled as he entered.

"Hi Papa," she was taking out a bowl for him.

"Hello, Isabelle. How has your day been?" he asked her kindly.

She stirred the pot of soup, "Well, Papa, I've been looking for a job."

"A job?" he was surprised. He hadn't thought of her having a job. Maybe it was because he was set on putting her back in high school, but she was far too old for that now. He realized then that she didn't even have a high school diploma. They'd have to work on getting her her GED.

"Yes, but I was unsuccessful this morning," she said in dismay, her stirring slowing.

"It's hard to find a job in this town," he nodded, "Did you try the Diner? Sometimes that Ruby girl is a mite unpredictable." That would be a good place to work. It was close and it was a fun environment. He loved eating there himself.

"Yes, but they don't have any full time positions," Isabelle sighed, ladling out the soup.

"You don't need a full time position. You can start part time, and work your way up," Moe told her, and she nodded at that.

"Yes, but we need money," she handed him the bowl of soup, "This whole world seems to revolve around money."

She sounded so bitter he could only chuckle, taking the spoon she gave him, "My girl, every world revolves around money."

"But Papa-," she sounded defeated, her arms resting on the counter as he took his first spoonful of ramen.

"Wait-," he felt realization spring to mind, "I know exactly who has a position open right now. They have for years, it's just nobody has had the right hours-."

Isabelle's face lit up, "Who Papa?"

"You'll like it there," Moe grinned, putting down his soup and grabbing the keys, "Grab your coat, I'll drive you over."

"Alright," she beamed, following him out of their door.

~: Mary Margret :~

She sighed, her smile still on her face.

Emma had come home frustrated, and had retired to the television when Mary Margret had been still a space cadet.

David was taking her to the Spring Queen Ball.

It was a dream come true! But what would she wear?

There was a knock at the door, but Isabelle came twirling in, "Hello Mary Margret!"

"Hi Isabelle," Mary Margret grinned as the girl shut the door and turned to face her again, taking in Mary Margret's blissful expression.

"You seem happy- what happened?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face as she tilted her head in Mary Margret's direction.

"David asked me to the Spring Queen Ball," Mary Margret beamed excitedly.

"Really?" Isabelle gasped, eyes wide and smile wider, "Mary Margret that's wonderful!"

"I know- but I have no idea what I'm going to wear…" Mary Margret said a little deflated by the fact, leaning her head on her hand. She could wear her red dress, but she didn't really want to wear it again. She wanted to wear something special for David.

"You should wear something white-," Isabelle suggested, sounding almost mischievous, "I think you'd look absolutely beautiful in white."

"You think?" Mary Margret straightened up, thinking about it. She'd never thought about it before. White.

Isabelle nodded confidently, a twinkle in her eye like she knew something that Mary Margret didn't. "Yes, I do think."

"Oh! I'm so excited!" Mary Margret bubbled, "But, oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, you came here to tell us something-."

"I got a job!" Isabelle burst, spreading her arms wide.

"Congratulations!" Mary Margret gasped.

"Where?" Emma demanded, turning around in her seat.

"Two, actually- um, the first one's at the book shop – the library –," she amended, "my dad is friends with the head librarian- they needed an assistant. The receptionist had been really busy doing both of the jobs, but I can reshelf books while she can be a proper receptionist," she grinned like it was a dream come true. Mary Margret felt a fresh smile spread across her own face. Isabelle continued, "And then I can work part time in the mornings until the book- I mean until the library opens, and the night shift for Ruby at the diner. They were happy to have me."

Wow. A lot of work so fast. Mary Margret was impressed.

"Good. I was planning on asking that girl to work for me soon," Emma sat back.

"I know, that's what Ruby said," Isabelle nodded. "I just have to get my social security card, and fill out an application at the diner. Granny said she'd order me a uniform."

"Won't you be really busy?" Mary Margret looked concerned.

"I like to be busy," Isabelle promptly replied. "They're giving me lunch off, and then I have about an hour and a half until I start at the diner for the closing shift."

"I don't think she'll work at all," Emma scoffed. When they looked at her, Emma shrugged, "She'll be reading all the time."

"I'll try to work, I promise," she grinned guiltily. She was stepping back towards the door. Mary Margret noticed she was wearing her coat, holding a rather worn bag, as though she were going somewhere.

"Where are you off to?" Mary Margret wondered.

"The book shop," Isabelle beamed happily.

"The library?" Emma corrected.

Isabelle made a face, "Right. I'll get the hang of it."

"Isn't it closed?" Mary Margret looked at the clock on the wall. It was past nine.

"Yeah," she smiled deviously, and held up a key, "Their mistake."

Both Emma and Mary Margret laughed as she left with a wave.

"Wow. Two jobs in one day," Mary Margret sighed as Isabelle closed the door behind her. "Sounds exhausting."

"She's a good worker-," Emma nodded, "but the Mayor's lies didn't exactly help her win over anyone."

"I'm worried that everyone is going to hate her," Mary Margret stared at the closed door that Isabelle had just gone out of, "They can't hate her as much as they hate me."

"I don't think they hate you. Ever since the candle thing-," Emma tried, supportively.

"Yes, but there are still rumors," Mary Margret said sadly, taking a bite of one of Isabelle's cookies.

"I hate small towns," Emma grumbled.

Mary Margret smiled wryly through her cookie, "Tell me about it."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hello my dearies! Did you see the new episode? Did you see the teaser for the next episode? ACK! OH! And Belle is going to be in two more episodes this season, including the season finale, which I'm sure I've already mentioned. **

**So I wrote this in kind of a happy daze. I have been needing some fluff, so it's what I wrote. I hope you all enjoy. **

Chapter 21

~: Belle :~

Belle didn't really like lying to Mary Margret and Emma about where she was going, but she was keeping this trip a secret. Even from Rumpelstiltskin himself. She had told him she was showering, but really, she was running to see him. It hadn't started that way. First she'd just pranced down the stairs and out the door, then began to walk. Walking had slowly turned into a brisk pace down the sidewalk, which had then turned to a half jog. Now she was running, excitement overbearingly making her legs move faster and faster. She hadn't seen him for so long now, she couldn't help but be ecstatic.

She panted breathily, smiling all the way.

She turned the corner sharply, and ran right up the steps of his rather large house- a lot of steps for a man with a bad leg, and stepped into the light of the porch. She knocked on the door, controlling her breathing and waiting while she felt his presence look to see who was at the door.

In a flash he was opening the door, drawing her inside, and peering around outside to see if anyone had seen her.

He slammed the door behind her, turning piercing eyes to her. "What're you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said, a little timidly.

He stared at her a little longer, taking her in, before holding her to him. "You need to be more careful, dearest."

She felt reckless, "Aren't you happy I'm here?"

"I'm not unhappy," he teased. The familiar line was bittersweet. She pulled back, her smile skeptical. "Clever girl," he continued, "running around this provincial town without my detecting it."

"You were just waiting until I got out of the bath," she said, pulling away and walking through to a room. She'd never been inside his house before.

"Yes, yes I was. Cunning," he was suddenly before her, touched her nose with the tip of one of his long fingers. She liked his hands- they were expressive, always constantly moving. She wrinkled her nose at him, moving past him again. "What _are_ you looking for?"

"Nothing in particular," she told him truthfully. "I'm just exploring."

"Your curiosity will be the death of you my dear," he sighed exasperatedly. "If it's not the death of me first."

She looked back at him sarcastically, before moving forward.

"Might I at least take your coat?" his voice came back up behind her ear.

"Certainly," she shrugged herself out of it, letting him take it from her. She turned to smile at him, "Did I surprise you at all?"

"More than I care to think," he told her, the coat taking wing and landing on a rack next to the door.

"What makes you say that?" Belle turned to face him full on then, worried by the tone of his voice.

"I've had everything change in my life in less than two weeks, my dear. I don't want it to change again."

"Even if it changes for the better?"

"How much better can it get?"

She smiled serenely, moving on to the next room. It was a wide, circular room, with little furniture in it. A very small ballroom, she determined as she spotted the hanging chandelier. "Do you like music?" she wondered, an idea forming in her head as she meandered towards the center of the room.

"It depends on the genre."

It would, she smiled to herself. She spun to face him then. "Do you like to dance?"

He stepped closer distrustfully, "I feel as though I'm being cornered here." He offered his hand.

She smiled, taking it delicately, elated that he was going to play along. "You might be."

"I do not plan to dance with you, my dear, even though you may wish it," he told her, drawing her away from the room. Her hopes plummeted.

"Why ever not?" she asked, trying to hide the disappointment from her tone.

"Because," he tilted his head at her as they walked into a living room, "this is not the occasion."

"What shall be the occasion?" she demanded, twisting her mouth.

"I will let you know when it shows itself," he told her. "Now, back to why you are here."

"I came to see you," she repeated.

"Well, you've seen me," he let go of her hand to gesture at himself. "Now will you be off?"

"No," she frowned. This was not going the way she had planned, even though she hadn't planned anything exactly. "I plan on staying a moment longer if possible. If it doesn't inconvenience you." She couldn't help but let a bit of her bitterness seep in at the last bit.

He grinned at that, not answering her, before flitting away, "If you insist on staying, please, take a seat."

She sat on a sofa that he gestured to, before he disappeared through a door. She bit her lip, wondering if this had been the right decision after all. She'd never considered this possibility, the possibility that now that his curse was lifted, and he could use magic, that he wouldn't want her around. Of course he would make sure she wasn't hurt. He felt responsible for her, but …

No. Her hand made a fist. She was not some silly girl pining away.

He had kissed her, had broken her curse, just as she had broken his. It meant true love.

And then she gasped as she realized.

He was toying with her, a cat with a ball of yarn, or a mouse with it's tail under his paw. He always had loved to tease her, to make her feel odd emotions. He found it amusing to toy with her heart?

"You look determined there, dearest," he said, coming back into the room, holding a tray with tea on it. _The irony abounds_, she thought with fondness.

"Yes," she said, standing up, and taking the tray from his hands. She wasn't about to have anyone, even him, trying to tease her into sadness. She'd had enough sadness in her life, she thought determinedly as she put the tray down on the coffee table. She'd pull her tail right out from under his paw, she decided, turn the tables on him.

She kissed him then, pressing her hands to his face, feeling his jaw and his high cheekbones under her fingers. It was exhilarating, the awake, alive feeling that she'd had when her curse had been lifted, liberating her entirely from the turmoil of doubt. It really was freedom, joy- She felt his surprise, shocked into unresponsiveness until his hands came around her, pulling her closer. She let it continue, felt him try to deepen the kiss, but no. She pushed away from him then, tilting her head, and sitting back down and crossing her legs as though to say, _Your move_.

"Ah, I see what you did there," his smile was Cheshire in nature. He sat next to her in one easy fluid motion, eyeing her appreciatively. "What are you doing here?" he asked again.

"I came to be with you," she amended, shaking her head at his antics.

"There we go," he grinned, sitting back, still drinking her in. "Now, what shall we do?"

"Whatever you think is best," she gestured to him.

"Whatever I think is best?" he repeated her sentence, making it a question. His eyebrows were high on his forehead. "My dear, you've come to the den of the lion, and you expect to leave after tell me I can do whatever I think is best?"

She sat forward, head in her hand, elbow resting on her knee. "Yes," she challenged, raising one eyebrow. They sat there staring at one another. She admired his tawny brown eyes. She had been right, they were a different color from before, and they were not catlike. She couldn't decide which she liked more. She could see there was some strain there. He was resisting something. She could only guess at what it could be. He'd always been a closed book that she had to pry open to read a single phrase before it slammed shut again.

"Tea?" he asked her, backing down more quickly than she wanted him to, already picking up a cup for her.

"Thank you," she nodded at him, watching him pour the tea from his pot.

He handed her the cup. It wasn't very pretty. She wondered what had happened to their set. "So, dearest, you have two jobs," he commented easily, matter of factly.

"That I do," she agreed after taking a scalding sip. He'd always liked his tea too hot for her liking. She smiled through the burning sensation, "A free and independent woman."

"Excellent. I'm sick of you sleeping on a mattress," he sounded perturbed, his eyes darkening. He didn't need to worry.

"It suits me fine. I slept on a bench for nigh on twenty eight years. Anything is more comfortable than that," she explained in all truthfulness. She was happy to have a mattress at all, with warm, well loved blankets and thin, soft sheets. The pillows had been the most luxurious. There were two of them. She liked how they smelled, like her home from the Enchanted Forest. It was a comforting, familiar scent, that sent her images of her mother.

"I suppose it would be," her words had only made his voice blacker, "And you're doing far too much."

She felt her eyebrows draw together, "What do you mean far too much?" she wondered, setting her tea on the saucer.

"I mean that you have yet to take ten minutes of a break," he pointed out. He hadn't taken a sip of his tea. He seemed busy studying her, and pointing out the obvious.

"I've been busy," she shrugged. He knew that. There was so much to do, so much to learn. How could she not be?

"Yes I know," his tone was bleakly sarcastic, him mouth twitching into a miffed expression.

"I have to learn quickly," she told him, the thoughts of discovering exciting her, "Everything changes so fast around here. The technology is baffling."

"It won't matter once we're back," he said flippantly, taking his first gulp of his tea.

"Once we're back? Back where?" she sat back, curious as to his meaning, careful to balance the cup so it didn't spill.

"Back home."

Her mouth made an "O." He meant their world. She hadn't thought about that. "I suppose you're right. I hadn't really planned on going back."

"What do you plan on then, dearest?" he wondered aloud, setting his tea and saucer on the table.

She planned on living here, here with him. Of course, a lot would have to change first. But she wasn't going to tell him her plan. So she looked at the table, putting her own tea down as she said, "I haven't thought about it."

"Don't lie to me," he said, leaning forward.

She tilted her head at him, before ducking her head, feeling the blush dust across her face.

"I think I like your plans," his voice lilted, knowingly.

She looked up fiercely to find his knowing smile spreading across her face, "You told me once that you aren't able to read minds."

"Yes, but I have always been able to feel and interpret wishes," he told her, his eyes keen, fixed on hers as they danced. "It's part of the job."

She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed. She had forgotten he knew almost everything again, now that he had his magic back. She didn't know how she was going to survive him knowing that she wanted to be – no, she had to stop thinking of it or he really would know everything.

His long fingers wrapped around her wrists, pulling her hands away until she looked up at him. "You needn't hide from me, dearest."

"It's not very fair," she pointed out, finding herself sounding rather childish as she said it.

"I know that. Since when have I played fair?" he teased, drawing her in closer to him by her wrists.

"Never," she twisted her mouth ruefully. At least he hadn't outright rejected her wish. Well, the previous wish. Now she was wishing she would just fall through the ground.

"However, I wish you weren't wishing to be swallowed up by the earth. I think I've done that. It's not very pleasant," his mouth pulled at one corner as his eyebrows set sarcastically over his eyes.

"No, no," she teased, slipping her wrists from his hands and entwining her fingers in his. "You stomped your way to hell, remember?"

"Ah yes. This world has odd retellings of our tales," he told her, his fingers threading their way so that their hands were almost too knotted to ever be untangled.

"It does!" she agreed, sitting up straighter. "I was reading our tale, but you were not in it. Well, not as Rumpelstiltskin. And I had brothers and sisters, and there was no Gaston."

"Yes I rather liked that part," he grinned at her.

She wrinkled her nose at him, giggling, "It said the story originated in France in this world. I wish I knew French."

"_Pourquoi est-ce_?" he said without missing a beat.

She stared at him with newfound awe. He knew a different language? "You speak French?" she asked excitedly.

"Un peu," he tilted his head back and forth.

"What does that mean?" she questioned, watching his face for the explanation.

"_N'aimeriez-vous pas de savoir_?" his smile was quick and sarcastic.

"You're just going to tease me in French," Belle sighed exasperatedly, rolling her eyes.

"_Dans n'importe quelle langue si vous le souhaitez. Espanol_?" his accent changed, "_Deutsch vielleict_?"

"You're showing off now," she tightened her mouth to keep it from turning up, pulling her hands from his and folding her arms in front of her.

"That's right. Are you impressed yet?" he asked leaning forward eagerly, his brogue sounding more powerful than usual after speaking in different tongues.

"No. Why? Should I be?" she countered quickly, her mouth holding back a smile as she looked into his dancing eyes.

"_Oui. Parce que chaque jour j'ai pensé à toi_."

"I give up," she threw her hands in the air.

He caught them in his, drawing them to him, making her lean closer, "I could teach you," he offered.

"Really?" her excitement lit her up. New languages had always been fascinating to her.

"For a price," he countered, challenging her drive.

There is always a price, "Name it," she responded immediately. She wasn't afraid of him.

"What would be equal to learning a language?" he wondered, loosing one of her hands to rub his chin theatrically.

"A kiss?" she tried, her smile wide and her voice over eager.

He tilted his head at her, "No, no, far too easy." Her face fell. She knew it wouldn't be that easy, "Perhaps your first born?" he suggested, taking her hand in his once more.

"Sounds a little steep," she made a face at him.

"Haggling with me now, eh? That's plucky," he grinned his Cheshire grin.

"I've been told I'm the bravest of them all," she smiled confidently, thinking of Henry's confidence boost.

"And the most humble," he nodded, and she felt thoroughly abashed, ducking her head. "We still have to discuss the subject of payment. You can't get something for nothing you know."

"All magic comes at a price," she recited. "So how come you can use magic all the time and it doesn't cost you?"

"Oh it does cost me. It drains me of my energy supplies," he told her truthfully.

"That's the balance?" she was surprised. She thought he had to pay homage to a higher being or something.

"Of course. What were you expecting?" he wondered, and she saw that teasing light in his eye. She wasn't about to have him mocking her for the rest of eternity about her silly notions. "Well, there is more to it, there are magical balances, there has to be. Elsewise the world wouldn't function. Too much magic causes problems."

She nodded, agreeing with that. "So how come you charge people their children then?" she diverted.

He noticed it, but answered her all the same. "Large enough spells take a lot out of me."

"How much did making the curse cost you?" she asked, her voice grave.

His tone matched her seriousness, sitting up and lowering his head, "A great deal."

She tried not to, but she had to ask, leaning in closer to peer into his eyes. "Rumpelstiltskin, why did you make it?"

He was silent, his eyes darkening, clouding over.

"It would have saved us this- this odd reunion," she chose the word odd carefully, half trying to lighten the mood.

"Remember, you were dead," he reminded her with severity in his tone, "I knew nothing of your imprisonment. I would not have made it otherwise."

She shook her head. He was not really answering her question, "But why-?"

"Must you always be so insatiably curious, my dear?" he sighed, sounding frustrated. She wished she hadn't pried, and watched as he smirked wryly at her. It took her a split second later that he had heard her wish, and bit her lip. He continued, granting her wish, "The Queen told me you had died. I had already begun it a long while ago. My son – was lost, as you know, and I poured my – darker, emotions into the curse. When I heard news of your death, - I completed it."

She fell utterly silent. It was her fault that the curse had been made then. It was because she had left him. She'd caused him pain enough to drive him to misery for all others. It was her fault… Her fault.

"All this talk of darkness is ruining my good mood. My skin will turn that nasty green again if we wallow in it, and I've had enough of that complexion to last me a life time." He was trying to make her smile, and it was working, "It'll ruin yours too, my dear if you're not careful. Now up, up, up!" he ordered, leaping to his feet and offering her his hands. "You wanted a tour of the house. There are a couple of rooms you should see!"

She smiled fondly at him, giving him her hands, and he pulled her to her feet, right into him. He kissed her nose then, before tugging her along.

He did take her through his rooms. They started in the rather creepy cellar, all the way up, discovering a small library that doubled as a study on the second floor, a green room where flowers and different herbs grew off to the side of the house, and lastly, a large circular balcony on the fourth floor.

But to get to that balcony, they had to get to it through a beautiful room. It was a bedroom, with a four poster bed, with flowing white bedding as though it'd been woven from clouds. A small vanity, a matching dresser- she let her fingers trail along the edge of the vanity as she passed. There were several spare bedrooms in the house, normally full to the brim with trinkets and odds and ends, one of them even turned into a spare workshop. This room was not one of them, but this was not his bedroom. He hadn't let her into his bedroom. It had only made her more curious, of course.

"It's beautiful," she smiled back at him, holding the book he'd let her borrow in both her hands. She hadn't been able to leave the library without one. He'd picked it randomly off of the shelf and stuffed it into her hands before having to drag her away.

"I do like this room myself," he said almost idly, pacing across the room to meet her at the balcony.

"Who is it for?" she asked him.

"Not who, my dear. Wrong question," he told her frankly.

She tilted her head at him, a skeptical look on her face, "Um- why-?"

He cut her off, stepping closer, "Nope – wrong again."

"_What_ is it for?" she tried.

"That's the ticket," he smiled, pointing at her, before gesturing broadly to the room. "It's a place for memories."

"Memories?" she wondered, looking around the room again for clues. She found none.

He nodded, meandering his way towards her. She smiled when she knew he wouldn't say anymore, looking back around to see the town lights like organized fireflies. She leaned against the railing, her hands keeping her up as she peered into the night sky. She was surprised when he stepped up right behind her, his hands next to hers on the railing. She always had loved his hands. She nestled against him, leaning her head back against his shoulder.

"I wish we could see the stars," she told the wind, staring up at the almost blank night sky.

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a flourish towards the night.

Suddenly the lights in the entire town dimmed, flashed out. She blinked, and then saw the night sky. Stars seemingly poured from the heavens, now the only lights in the sky with a quarter moon. She smiled brightly, gasping. He chuckled in her ear, his breathe tickling her. "Thank you," she rubbed her nose against his cheek, inhaling his scent, a wonderful mixture of this world's musk and processed ink and the old smell, not completely hidden even still, fresh straw and her favorite paper smell, like books not touched for ages. And of course, that smell of raw magic.

"It's going to cost you," he whispered.

She kissed his cheek, suddenly feeling tense, and nervous.

"No my dear," he snickered, shaking his head. "No."

She blushed furiously, sliding away from him, infuriated. He'd read her wish again, read it like an open book. Of course it'd only been half a wish, a question really. She stalked out of the room furiously.

"Don't be angry. I can't help it-," he was still laughing. Laughing at her foolishness as he followed her across the room.

"You cheat," she snapped at him, not turning around as she stalked downwards.

He accepted that, pausing mid stride, before following her down the stairs. "I don't know which I prefer more, my dear. Upsetting you or having you startle me."

"You love to upset me," she pointed out mercilessly as they reached the end of the stairs.

"That I do," he said, stepping off afterwards. He caught her, making her stop. "But I'll tell you what I can't stand."

"What?" she demanded, annoyed.

He stared into her eyes, a serious softness there she had rarely seen before, "Having you angry at me."

She sighed, looking away from his explorative gaze, "I'm not angry," she told him honestly, and felt her blush act up again, "I'm just really, very embarrassed."

"I see that," he teased, his hand ghosting across her face.

"You're not helping," she said ruefully, leaning into his touch.

"Here," he said, pressing his hand against her cheek until she looked up at him again.

He kissed her then, pressing his lips softly to hers. She inhaled sharply, closing her eyes and falling into it. His kiss started off softly, but it quickly turned hard, his ferocity from his pawnshop returning as she pulled herself closer to him, the book falling from her grasp. He was pushing her back, pushing her into a wall. Her back banged against it, and she was trying to keep up with his every quickening pace, wanting to keep up. She wished she could keep up, wished she could make him happy. He growled low in his throat, making her spine tingle as she entwined her fingers in his hair. She felt his teeth graze into her lower lip. She cried out-

He broke away, stumbling from her. She gasped for breathe, stepping forward. Had she done something wrong?

He was chuckling darkly, "I think you need to leave."

She'd upset him. She seemed good at that this evening. She straightened up, putting on a brave face, "Before the clock strikes twelve and I turn into a pumpkin?"

He smiled grimly, "Something along those lines."

She nodded, biting her lip, and tasted blood where his teeth had been mere moments ago. She played it off, "Alright."

"However," his voice caught her attention, sounding urgent. She looked up at him, "your payment for seeing the stars is that you must visit me tomorrow."

She hadn't upset him too much, then, "Gladly."

"This time, dearest, no sneaking about," he warned her as he grabbed her coat, "I like to keep an eye on you."

She smiled sarcastically, "I've noticed."

"It bothers you?" he sounded worried as he helped her into her coat.

"No, not at all," she smiled, turning to face him as she fumbled with the buttons, "Just when Doctor Hopper declares me insane again, know that it will be your fault."

"I would tell you to stop talking to me, but that would be rather boring," he told her, buttoning her topmost button for her before she could get to it. She smiled at him, gently touching his cheek before turning to go. "Oh, Belle?" She looked at him, found him holding the book she had borrowed out to her.

She felt guilty for dropping it, but she could tell that was not the only thing that he had called to her for, "Yes?"

He stepped forward, "You do plan on attending that ridiculous ball, don't you?"

She smiled knowingly, "That entirely depends on who is going." She looked at him pointedly as she opened the front door.

"I am, compelled, by her Majesty to be present," he half bowed to her.

"Will we dance then? Will that be the occasion?" she wondered, sudden excitement making her breathy.

He only smiled at her, his eyes entrancing as they danced.

"Well, then, we'll see if I can make it," she made to go, stepping on the porch with a wave, "Goodnight," she smiled as he made to close the door. "Oh Rumpelstiltskin?" she asked, facing him.

He held the door, his eyes expectant. "Yes, my love?" It was something he hadn't meant to say, she could tell at his semi shocked expression, but then realized it was something he meant. He smiled at her understanding as she stepped forward, her own smile bright, her heart soaring at the new nickname.

She kissed him briefly, "I love you, too," she whispered, before turning away, feeling his eyes on her back as she went.

The book, she examined for the first time as she half skipped down the steps, was a collection of works by an author. Jane Austen. She'd heard of her before. She opened the book to the table of contents, picked a story, and began to read as she walked home, smiling all the way.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

As he shut the door behind her, his mind was instantly off, following her home, making sure that as she walked with a nose stuck in a book that she was not hurt, not even too chilly. He was especially sure to keep a close eye on her as she walked from his home. He did not need spies getting back to her Majesty about the broken deal.

Rumpelstiltskin hated breaking deals. He hated it. Hated it more than anything else in the world. Now her Majesty could do as she pleased because he'd broken his promise, go back on it with a vengeance. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, went the proverb. That was doubly true for the Queen.

Sighing in frustration, he leaned against the wall where he'd pressed Belle mere moments before. It had been reckless for him to kiss her that way. He couldn't allow himself to get carried away with her. She was intoxicating enough as it was.

And he wanted her wishes to come true. She wanted to be married to him. A ridiculous wish, especially in this world where marriages seldom lasted longer than ten years. But it was her wish. He would grant it when he could. But for now, times were perilous. He would not endanger her, and he would not make her the next town harlot, though Snow White as a harlot was still laudable to him. Belle didn't need to be sneaking to see him at night. He would have to arrange something else.

His mind was scattered. She was good at scrambling his brain with her presence, and if it meant one more moment with her, then he would happily have the consequences. He had sent her away, though, for a different reason than she thought, though that incident had contributed. The Mayor was going to be on the prowl shortly. His first instinct had been to keep her inside, but there was always that chance that Regina would swing by and try to check up on him. He would have to suck in all his magic, keeping his spell casting web buried away within him while she was present. She had felt his magic, he was sure, the moment he'd gotten it back. However, she couldn't pin point it. She couldn't tell if it was the curse spiking out, or him, since the curse had been created with his magic. She had checked on him often since, spontaneously, he let her believe. Because having magic meant they'd broken their contract. It meant that he'd kissed Belle.

He was greedy when it came to Belle, though, he thought. He watched as other men stared at her, was jealous when she went to see Archie in the afternoons, hated as her father began to appreciate her again. They all knew nothing of her worth and yet they got to spend moments with her, precious moments that he could not.

He loved her. He hadn't meant to let it slip. He'd planned on saving it.

Her answering smile had been enough though, the way her eyes had brightened and her face had lit up. It had been perfect despite his poor timing.

What did it matter? He loved her. It was only truth.

He loved her.

**A/N: Straight fluff. I thought you all would appreciate it. Thank you for all the reviews!**

**Also, guys, I'm sorry to announce I won't be able to post tomorrow. I didn't mean for it to happen. It's just that it's my friend's going away party and I've put it off. Procrastination is my middle name… anyways! I love you all, dearies! Have a happy Monday! **


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey I'm back! Did ya miss me?**

**Anyways, I just want to thank you all so much- for over 400 reviews! You guys, this means that I have the most reviews out of anyone in the entire OUAT section of fanfiction! *tears of joy* YOU are phenomenal! I couldn't have done it without you! **

**I hope you enjoy the read! Thank you again! **

Chapter 22

~: Regina :~

She decided that she was going to go see him tonight. It had been more than a week now, since their little bargain had been struck. He'd been quiet, too quiet.

She had expected him to buy the apartment complex. It was obnoxious that it was considered his property, unlike the nuns' deal with him, because of certain legal technicalities that he'd installed in the contract. But, well played.

What she hadn't expected was his paying all of the medical bills and all the bank loans for the French family. What a soft little man he was after it all.

She drove quickly, exceeding the speed limit, daring that stupid Sheriff to pull her over. She almost hit someone crossing the street reading, but the stumbled out of the way in time, almost like they were pushed to the side. Annoyed she sped on by vindictively.

She pulled up next to Mr. Gold's house. Now here was the problem. Getting him out of his cave and into the open.

Stepping on the grass alone made her feel weak. Gritting her teeth, she ground out the pain and stomped her way forcibly to the door. She pounded on it with more force than she meant to.

"No need to break down the door," Mr. Gold said, his voice chipper as he opened the door. "What's the matter dearie? You look a little weak at the knees."

She swallowed her nausea. "I need to speak with you."

"No, I'm a little bit preoccupied at the moment," he said, his eyes hollow. He was still grieving that little girl's loss. He sneered at her, "Come back later when you're feeling more up to it." He made to close the door in her face, but she planted a hand on it to keep it from shutting.

She clung to the doorframe, her muscles shaking, rattling her bones in their joints. "There- has been a spike in the curse. Have you felt it?"

"Of course," he said, sarcastically, "I know my magic."

"You, know what's going on?" she panted, staring into his face.

"No," his face was blank, surprisingly so. She had expected a flicker in his dark eyes, his regular tell. Now his eyes were a little astonished, "I thought it was you, Your Majesty. Now if you don't mind, would you get off my porch, please?" her knees buckled under the reinforcement of the demand, "I think I've asked you before to stay off my property."

With a look of pure loathing she staggered off the porch, stumbling to her car. The minute she stepped off his lawn her symptoms stopped. She glowered back at the house, still feeling uneasy about it all. There had to be something going on. The curse could not be unraveling. She refused to believe it. It had to be something else. But what?

~: Belle :~

"This is the kid's section."

Belle nodded, following the wizened head librarian around the dim room. Some of the windows were boarded up, others were covered by newspaper. The room was entirely dusty and there appeared to be no one there but herself and the librarian. The receptionist was out for breakfast. Something along those lines.

There were books- books everywhere. That was the problem. They were stacked in corners, piled on tables, left open so the spines were cracking. Belle touched one tenderly as she passed, the open page dry and dusty.

"It just got too much for me to handle alone," he was saying, looking at her through thick glasses. "We didn't have enough money in the budget for new shelves to stack them in, and the systems changed."

Belle nodded, looking to the battered books in the room, like wounded soldiers.

Claustiphobia was setting in. It was something she had dealt with since she left the asylum. Normally there were windows, and doors, to be left open, but with the windows closed, she felt herself begin to shake. She felt the pressure behind her neck, meaning that Rumpelstiltskin was trying to comfort her. She leaned back a bit, straightening as though his hand were at the small of her back.

"If you don't mind my asking," she said hesitantly, "Can you tell me why the windows are all covered up?"

"Well, my late wife had a problem with the light…" the librarian bent his head, removing his rather large glasses and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "When she came here she complained about it until the cows came home, so…"

She felt her heart pang at the sadness in his voice, "Oh, I'm- I'm truly sorry to hear that," Belle put her hand on the man's shoulder.

"It was a while ago now," he smiled bleakly, placing his glasses back on his nose and sniffing. He looked to the windows for a distraction, "I suppose that we should open them now, eh?"

"Would you mind that terribly?" she said, feeling completely guilty for even asking.

"No, no, of course not!" he patted her on the back, "It is rather gloomy in here, isn't it?" he grinned at her toothily.

"A bit," she smiled kindly. "I'll- go do it now- if you don't mind."

"No, not at all!" he waved her away.

Tearing down the newspaper was easy. It was the stupid boards that she had trouble with. Outside she wrenched at the pieces of plywood with aching fingers. Huffing, she stepped back, glowering at the particularly annoying wood.

Something suddenly popped in her face- a large metal object. She gasped, stumbling right into someone.

"It looked like you needed this," David grinned at her.

"Oh! Hello," Belle smiled at him. "I'm just trying-."

"I noticed. Here," David said, stepping towards the windows. He stuck the piece of metal between the window's rim and the board, and levered it away from the window. The piece of board fell to the ground. Belle beamed.

David helped her conquer the rest of the windows, busting the wood free to reveal the glass. Several people stopped to watch as they did so. Belle learned about the pry bar, which was not a recently discovered tool, but the electric drill was. He promised to show her his tool box later. They stacked the wood sideways against the side of the library as they worked, keeping them off the sidewalk and out of people's way as they walked.

They stared together at the windows above.

"Is there even a second story?" he wondered as they looked at them.

"Well," Belle said thoughtfully, "Even if there isn't, I want them off."

"They are kind of an eye sore," David agreed.

"My question is how he got them up there," Belle said aloud, and from her peripheral vision she saw David nod.

"I'll get a ladder," he said, stepping backwards.

She looked at him in surprise, "Isn't your break over?"

He shrugged with a smile, "They don't really need me today anyways."

"Thanks David," she grinned brightly, taking the pry bar from him. He really was Prince Charming.

This time he brought a hammer with him, something she recognized, and hauled a ladder over and up to the side of the library, the ledge flat enough that once they were up there they could walk along it. David went first, and Belle held the ladder steadily, before beginning to join him.

There was a pressure on her shoulders, pushing her to the ground. She bent under the sudden surge of weight. "You're cheating," she mumbled, grasping the ladder with her hands. "I'm going to do it," she told him under her breath. More weight fell on her shoulders, and she forced herself to take a step on the first rung. "I'm getting up there whether you like it or not," she snapped. "I don't fall off ladders all the time, and you crushing me into dirt is not going to help your cause."

The pressure stopped, and she felt him retreat, obviously annoyed with her. She grinned determinedly at the sky before half running up the ladder. It was so much easier to do in jeans and converse. She felt him steady the ladder, ground it so it didn't shake a hair, and she whispered her thanks to the wind, before taking David's offered hand at the top.

"What were you saying down there? I couldn't hear you," David asked, handing her her pry bar with a curious expression.

"Oh- that- um, oh nothing. Absolutely nothing at all," she grinned falsely, holding up her tool. "Let's get to it, shall we?"

"Right," David said, sounding uncertain.

Belle shot a sarcastic look at the sky before setting to her task.

She did slip twice, the first time scarier than the second since she almost fell off the ledge. David had gone down to say hi to a passing Mary Margret, and she was working on the second to last window. She made to step back to figure out what would be the best way to get that top board off, when her foot landed wrong- she felt her stomach plummet as she waved around wildly, trying to regain her balance. Two strong hands practically shoved her into the wall, pinning her there as she gasped.

"_I told you that this was a idiotic venture, dear_, " he whispered angrily in her ear.

"Thank you," she smiled at the wind, where it sounded like he was coming from. She saw the ghost of an outline, "That could have been a little bit painful."

"_Mm, yes. A pathetic way to die if you ask me, splattered across the street because you lost your balance_." He sounded sarcastic, but a bit better.

"Boring, too," she agreed, "I'd much rather die doing something heroic."

"_You would_." And he withdrew again.

"Thank you!" she whispered again.

"Are you ok?" David called, Mary Margret running up after him.

"Oh, I'm fine!" she waved down to them. "Sorry about that!"

"Why're you sorry? You're the one that almost fell off a rooftop!" Mary Margret sounded terrified. Little did she know she had someone watching out for her.

It was almost eleven by the time she and David had completed their task. They hurried through the last hour, because the clock tower had been overpoweringly deafening when they'd been up there at ten. They laughed as they scrambled down with the last load of wood with five minutes to spare.

"We can put this stuff in my truck and I'll take it to the woodpile," David said, taking her wood from her before making his way into the street to cross it.

"Alright," Belle smiled, "Hey David?"

"Yeah?" he asked, turning back to her.

"Thanks!" she nodded.

"Not a problem, Isabelle," he waved, "If you want you can get back to your job. This shouldn't take me long."

"Ok," Belle said, retreating. "I've got a lot more to do."

He made a face, "Yeah you do. I've been in there once."

She exaggerated biting her lip, before laughing, and backed into the library.

She sighed as she turned around, the door swinging closed behind her, and faced the mess. Opening the windows had been the easy part. At least it was a whole lot brighter. Of course, she'd dealt with worse. She smiled as she remembered tackling Dark Castle. She'd done it then, she could definitely do it now.

~: Emma :~

Emma was tapping her foot at the flyer in front of her.

Stupid Spring Queen Charity Ball. Why did she have to go again? She couldn't remember, but she knew she had to. She hated big fancy parties, with their fancy dresses and fancy drinks. She never knew how to handle that sort of environment. So far in Storybrooke she'd been comfortable with everything dealt to her so far. This? This was totally different.

"Come to the Spring Queen Charity Ball, join the cause," she harrumphed to herself.

"You're going to that?" Ruby asked, walking into the office with two coffee cups.

"Apparently I have to," Emma grumbled, setting the paper down on her desk.

"Me too," Ruby sighed, handing Emma a cup, "You gonna run?"

Emma cocked her head at her, "Run for what?" she asked, taking a sip.

"Run for Spring Queen?" Ruby explained.

Emma spluttered, choking on her coffee. "What?"

"Well no one else runs against Regina. I think you could pull it off," Ruby tilted her head at her.

"Not me," Emma shook her head sharply, thinking in horror of what being a Queen would involve. She'd much rather fight to the death than be forced to smile through functions.

"I get it," Ruby nodded, half sitting on Emma's desk and taking a swig of her own drink, "You know who should run though? I keep telling her every year that she needs to."

"Who?" Emma asked.

"Mary Margret," Ruby said matter-of-factly, leaning closer, "She's so pretty, she's probably the most beautiful girl in town if you think about it. Well, besides me," Ruby teased, flipping her streaked hair out of her face as Emma rolled her eyes, "And she'd definitely the kindest."

Emma thought about it, "You think she'd go for it?"

"Na," Ruby shook her head, crossing her legs and pursing her lips to a side, "She always says no."

"Hey," Emma said, thinking through it, a smile slowly spreading across her face, "you know that gives me an idea."

"What?" Ruby asked, taking the coffee cup from her lips.

Emma flickered her eyes to Ruby, her smirk more and more pronounced, "We should submit her name anyways."

"What?" Ruby's eyes went wide, her voice clearly making her opinion known.

"Well, think about it. She deserves it," Emma thought about how she'd falsely accused Mary Margret of being Kathryn's killer, arresting her. She still felt so terrible about the whole thing, even though she had forgiven Emma entirely. Mary Margret really was the kindest of them all. "It could help clear up her name."

"We have to find a charity that will back her," Ruby looked doubtful. Emma didn't really pay attention to the charities around Storybrooke so she was at a loss for what to suggest. They sat in silent pondering for a moment, "The nuns!" Ruby exclaimed, gesturing her coffee cup at Emma, "they totally love her, and they'd be a big help. They give to all the charities."

"Who backs Regina?" Emma wondered, her brows furrowing.

"Oh, she backs herself through the City. She gives the money they raise to help fund things, like the school or the public health system," Ruby shrugged, waving her coffee around to show the obscurity.

Emma made a distrusting face, "Right." She turned to her desk computer, opening her web browser.

"So are we going to do it?" Ruby leaned in, her dark eyes wide and excited.

"Yes," Emma smiled determinedly at the computer. "On it as we speak."

"Wooo!" Ruby grinned, chugging the last of her drink and chucking it in the trash. "Nobody ever runs against the Mayor. I can't wait to see what's gonna happen!" Ruby stood up, making to leave.

"Thanks for the coffee Ruby," Emma held her own still half full cup out to her. Ruby nodded, and Emma added with an uneasy expression. "I'm sorry it couldn't work out."

"It's ok," Ruby motioned nonchalantly, figuring that Emma was talking about Ruby saying she couldn't work with her at the station, "Granny really needs my help anyways. She thinks she might retire soon." Ruby made a face.

"Granny? Retire?" the idea was mind boggling, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I know, super farfetched, right?" Ruby grinned, "Anyways, see you later, Emma! I'll call you." She waved.

"Bye Ruby," Emma waved back.

Two friends in Storybrooke. Two real friends. She'd never really had friends before, didn't have time for them, so it was odd that suddenly there were two of them. And here she was being sentimental when she had work to do.

~: Belle :~

She discovered the second story entrance by accident. Both the librarian and the receptionist were out to lunch when it happened. Belle had been lifting books off of the shelves and stacking them in one corner, and the entrance happened to be behind a rather decrepit book shelf.

She pulled a book off of it, to see a gaping black hole instead of old, faded yellow painted wall. She leaned closer, pulling off another book, and another to get a better view, her smile growing as she did so, not hearing the old creak of the shelf as she did so, bending farther and farther forward to peer onto the landing of what looked like a staircase.

It collapsed on her while she had the books in her arms. With a yelp she found herself crushed under a heap of books and wooden splinters. She coughed on the dust that had poofed up all around her from the old volumes.

"You're clumsier than usual, today," growled a muffled voice.

The weight was lifted off her chest as books were sent flying to the corner off of her, and the wood stacked itself neatly into a pile, leaving her strewn across the floor looking absolutely ridiculous. He was staring down at her, both hands resting on his cane. She smiled meekly up at him, scrambling to her feet. He offered her a hand up.

She took it, "I'm an accident waiting to happen," she smiled as she straightened, letting go of his hand and brushing dust from her jeans. "But look!" she grinned, gesturing to the now half exposed doorway. "The way upstairs."

"It would be you who found their way into the clock tower," he grinned fondly.

"Why?" she asked, making her way onto the landing, and stepping up the first stair. "Was it lost before?"

"It was, actually," he told her, following her casually, the cane more for show than for actual purpose as they walked up the stairs, Belle's curiosity overflowing.

Belle hadn't been able to see through the dirty windows when she and David had been clambering up on the ledge earlier, but now she peered into an almost empty room. There were a couple of chairs, and a table, with a chess game half played on it. She cocked her head at it, interested. As she stepped farther into the room, she noticed there was another door. She went to it almost immediately, but it was bolted shut. She looked to Rumpelstiltskin, gesturing at it.

"Best not, my dear," he said easily, leaning away.

Belle's curiosity was ignited immediately. "What's up there?"

"Absolutely nothing at all interesting," he told her, his voice edgy, though he tried to mask it. _Something terribly interesting then_, she thought to herself.

Her gaze flickered from the door to Rumpelstiltskin and back again, wondering if she should press her luck. When she met his eyes again, she decided against it. His answer would be no.

Sighing, she decided later that when she borrowed David's tool box that she would try and get it open by herself. She went to the chess board instead, eyeing the pieces with fondness. "Do you play?" she asked him. "I remember you had a set at Dark Castle. I always wanted to ask if we could have a match."

"Why didn't you?" he asked, stepping closer.

She took a seat in one of the mismatched chairs, small and wooden. "I planned on it. You just always were busy, or very tired," she smiled warmly at the memory of their contented, sunlit afternoons of spinning and tea.

"Well then, let's see how well you play," he grinned impishly, taking a seat in the red high backed chair.

"Should we continue their game?" she asked, gesturing to the board as it was. It had barely been started, and she was missing two pawns and a rook. He was only missing a knight. He nodded his consent, studying the board, leaning his cane against one of the arm rests of his chair. "And no cheating," she added, eyeing him pointedly.

"I wouldn't dream of it, dearest," his gaze didn't leave the board, but his smile was unmistakably mischievous.

~: Mary Margret :~

"Hey," Ashley smiled at her as they happened to enter Granny's Diner together.

"Hi Ashley!" Mary Margret beamed.

They sat at the bar together, "You seem happy," Ashley pointed out, putting down a plastic bag in the seat next to her.

"Yes," Mary Margret smiled brightly, thinking of David, "How are you? Where is Alexandria?"

"I got a babysitter," Ashley smiled slightly, "I needed to go shopping for something to wear to this Charity event, and Jack's older sister offered to babysit for a while. She needs the money for a dress."

"Jack as in Jack from my class?" Mary Margret wondered, tilting her head.

"Yep," Ashley confirmed, her blonde curls bouncing around her pretty face, "And I can always help a girl with a few extra dollars to buy a dress."

"A dress for the Spring Queen Charity Ball?" Mary Margret wondered. More and more people seemed to be going to this thing this year. She was surprised by it all. How fast everyone grew up.

"Yep. I just picked mine up," she gestured to the plastic bag, "It's not much, but I think I can alter it."

"You always were a pretty good seamstress," Mary Margret remembered with admiration.

"Thanks," Ashley beamed, "Hey, if you need any help with your campaign I'd be so happy to help. I'm really good with designing posters and stuff."

"Posters?" Mary Margret made a face.

"You know, for your campaign to be Spring Queen?" Ashley said as though this were obvious to her.

"What?" blinked Mary Margret, completely confused.

"Yeah, Ruby was telling me all about it earlier," Ashley gestured to Ruby, who came over to them with a coffee pot.

"What's up?" Ruby wanted to know, leaning against the counter on the other side with her free hand.

"Ashley was saying that I'm running for Spring Queen?" Mary Margret made the sentence a question.

"Oh, right. Dang it, I was gonna let Emma tell you," Ruby said, both looking and sounding guilty.

Mary Margret tilted her head at her suspiciously, "What are you talking about?"

Ruby twisted her mouth, "You know how I've always said that you should run for Spring Queen?"

"Ruby, you didn't," Mary Margret said in horror.

"No, it was Emma's idea," Ruby explained quickly, gesturing at her to stay put with both the coffee pot and her free hand.

"Emma?" Mary Margret sat up, surprised.

Ruby nodded encouragingly, "Yeah, she said you deserve it, that it would help clear up your name."

"And I think you would make a perfect Spring Queen!" Ashley joined in.

"You guys, I can't-," Mary Margret tried.

"Seriously, Regina can get off her stupid throne for one night," Ruby stated rebelliously, hand on her hip.

Ashley put a hand on Mary Margret's shoulder, "Ruby's right, you totally deserve it."

"But-."

"No buts. You are gonna be the best Spring Queen this town has seen in years," Ashley hugged her. Mary Margret felt staggered under the idea as Ashley giggled excitedly. She was still trying to process the sheer possibility.

"Guys I don't even have a dress yet," Mary Margret said truthfully, albeit a little abashed.

"Don't worry," Ruby told her, placing her hand over Mary Margret's.

"We've got it covered," Ashley smiled supportively.

The two conspirators high fived across the counter.

"Ruby!" Granny called from the back.

"Coming Granny," she shouted over her shoulder, and then turned to give them a small wave, "Bye guys."

"Bye," the two girls said in unison. "Oh, can you bring me a grilled cheese?" Mary Margret asked tentatively.

"Most def- you know what's weird?" Ruby said, pausing to look back at her, "You and Emma both love grilled cheese. And she puts cinnamon in her hot chocolate too."

"We are roommates," Mary Margret shrugged absently, before turning back to the task at hand, "Spring Queen?"

"Yes!" Ashley bubbled.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

How she was beating him he couldn't fathom. His eyebrow furrows were deepening with each of her moves. He had started off playing so confidently, his pieces practically waltzing around the chess board. Now she had just put him in check for the third time.

"Your move." Her voice was smug.

"I know," he grumbled from underneath his hand. He didn't know where to move his King. Any way he could move it, it would be in check a moment later. He moved it two spaces diagonally, his eyes darting to her face.

She moved her rook into position. "Check mate," she declared with a grin, folding her delicate hands in her lap.

"How-?" he studied the board, and found both the bishop and the rook cornering him. He looked to her face then.

"And you even cheated," her grin was growing as the glow from the dirty window made the room golden around her.

He threw her a scandalized look, "I did not-."

"You read my wishes," she smiled beatifically.

That made him pause, "What?"

"You read my wishes. Admit it," she leaned forward, her eyes bright and confident.

He stared back at her in admiration. She _was_ good. Always had been, "How did you-?"

"Because I kept wishing for the opposite of what I wanted to happen," she explained easily, and then, for proof, he felt her wish. Wishes were his specialty. Normally desperation or loathing or fear made them loud, loud enough to be felt throughout the Enchanted Forest. That's when he would appear. However, they weren't a noise. They were a tug, a string inside him that he could unhook from himself, like he did with the person walking below wishing for a sandwich, and ignore, or he could connect with. He had perfected the art before, but ever since regaining his magic, he'd had been blown away by how much people wished for. They wanted everything, a new bike, a new car, a new house, a new boyfriend, a new phone, a new piece of gum. It was rather irritating. He drowned out a lot of them, his mind learning to sort them all again, though it was hard to drown out people who were desperate. Belle's wishes, on the other hand, were all connected to him, all of them drawn to him, even her very smallest wishes, wound together like golden thread. He kept them all, and now, as he sorted through the cords of them, found her exact game strategy. They had been quiet, discrete and he'd acted like he was king of the game. She was an excellent strategist. He was not playing poker with her.

He sat back, baffled, "And here you are accusing me of cheating."

"If you hadn't cheated I wouldn't have cheated," she pointed out with her finger, raising her eyebrows at him.

He grinned hugely, "Well, what a pair we are."

"You're mad I beat you at your own game?" she inquired aloud, smiling slightly.

"I was cheated out of my win," he reminded her.

"You are mad," her mouth twisted as that tell-tale crease in her forehead appeared.

"I'm not mad," he assured her with another smile, shaking his head slowly, "I'm defeated at my own game."

"How else am I supposed to keep up with you?" she demanded.

"Isabelle?" a voice from below interrupted his reply. It sounded like the old librarian. Rumpelstiltskin scowled in the general direction of the voice, _wishing_ he would go away. He'd only had a half hour with her so far.

Belle stood up at the sound of her name being called, making to walk to the entrance of the staircase.

He grabbed her by her wrist, pulling her down on top of him. She gasped but he smothered her mouth with his to stifle it.

"What are you doing?" she gasped, breaking free. She wasn't angry though. No she was torn, torn between staying and going. Staying. He would make her stay.

"Claiming my victory," his smile was roguish, and it caught her breath.

"But I won," she reminded him a little too slowly.

He kissed her again, then, forcefully. _We'll see about that_, he thought as she inhaled sharply, hands around his neck. He chuckled when she broke away to breath, his mouth moving along her jaw line.

"Who won?" he asked again in her ear, his smile confident.

"I did," her voice was trembling.

Determined. He'd always liked to fight with her. Especially one where he didn't have to play fair. His lips continued their way down her neck and she clung to him, shaking gently.

"Who won?" he asked once more, pausing at the nape of her neck.

"M-me."

He chuckled breathily, looking to meet her blue eyes again. He liked her wish now as she leaned in to kiss him. Sadly there was an old man heading up the stairs looking for his new assistant librarian. Just five more minutes?

"Until later," he whispered to her, mischief laced in his voice.

Her look of shock when he disappeared was enough to keep him laughing through the bitterness of having to leave. He watched as her body, which had been on top of his, now fell unceremoniously into the armchair they'd been occupying, legs dangling off one side as she sunk into the cushion.

"Cheater!" she accused him in outrage. "If I say you win will you come back?"

"Isabelle?" the old man asked, stepping around the arm chair to look at her in confusion. "Who are you talking to?"

She blushed to her roots, and he was sure that his neighbors could hear him laughing at her mortified expression.

**A/N: Oh Rumple, you're so mean! Kee hee, anyways what did you think? **

**:) Oh, and a shout out to Inkblood- I finally got through that list, and I like them lots- especially Gravity, I REALLY liked that one! Thank you for that! Oh, and Rebecca Karie for the song- I think it's absolutely perfect!**

**Guys, if you know of any songs that you think would match Rumple and Belle, I would be SO open to suggestions. I love music, it really helps me write. So send ideas for music describing their relationship my way! :D Who knows, you might find lyrics laced through chapters? **


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: PEOPLE YOU ALL HAVE SUCH GREAT TASTE IN MUSIC, thank you so much! XD Keep the suggestions coming, I really appreciate them. I'm worried that I'll make my stories too songfic-y, so you tell me if it was too songfic-y, and I'll not add more songs in. **

**ANYways, I hope you all enjoy! Please know how much I appreciate all of your reviews. They're really important to me, and I'll do my best to keep everyone's opinions in mind as I write. **

**Again, YOU are amazing! Enjoy! **

Chapter 23

~: Emma :~

Mary Margret was going to be mad when she got home, but Emma was already making flyers, and posting them around town. It wasn't much so far, but so far it was going good. Well, she'd posted at least six, so far that was.

"Hey sister," said a grumbly voice from behind her.

Emma rotated to find Leroy in front of her, holding one of the few flyers she'd posted. "Go put that back," she told him.

"Mary Margret's running in the race against Regina?" Leroy wanted to know, not following her orders.

"Yeah," Emma said, leaning back to look at all of him.

"Alright, how can I help?" he asked gruffly.

"Why?" she wanted to know, folding her arms, pursing her lips.

"Because, I like her," the town drunk responded. "Not like that," he waved his hands at her when she eyed him skeptically, "No, she just was … helpful once. That's all."

"You called her the town whore," Emma reminded him resentfully.

"Yeah. And I'm not proud of it. But now I just want to help too," he said, sounding apologetic. He meant it. She could tell. "She's a good person you know?" he looked up at her with a shrug.

"Yeah, I know," Emma said, looking hum up and down, before splitting her stack of flyers in the middle and handing him half. "Here, you start taping these around the other side of town."

He half smiled, "Can do," he told her, before walking in the opposite direction.

"And put that one back!" she called to him. He waved her off.

She continued, feeling a little bit better about posting flyers as she went. She posted them everywhere, on signs, on shop doors, on lamp posts and on telephone poles. It was tedious work, and her flyers were kind of boring. They had Mary Margret's black and white picture on them, with Mary Margret Blanchard for Spring Queen. Vote Now. She tilted her head at one of them. It kinda looked like she was wanted by the police or something.

Henry came riding up to her on his bike, startling her. "Hey Emma! You signed up Miss Blanchard for Spring Queen?" he asked, skidding to a stop next to her, holding a brightly colored flyer in his hand.

"Yup," Emma nodded.

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed, "It's the perfect plan! Reinstall her as the True Queen over the Evil Que-," Henry began to rant.

"Whaho whoa whoa, slow down, Kid," Emma cut him off. "This doesn't have anything to do with Operation: Cobra. I'm just trying to get Mary Margret's face off of the bad press and into good graces again."

"Exactly," Henry grinned, holding up the flyer that Emma hadn't seen before.

"Where did you get that?" she asked, peering at it. It was a picture of Mary Margret in color, with a bright smile on her face.

"Ruby gave me one. She and Ashley have been designing it for hours. They just started putting them up everywhere," Henry explained.

The flyer read, "Mary Margret Blanchard for this year's Spring Queen!" Under that there was, "She's one of the best teachers in Storybrooke, devoting her time and energy to charities when she's not busy with your child's schoolwork. Vote her for Spring Queen today!" and then it gave the address on where to vote at. On the sides were cute frills and designs that Emma wouldn't have thought of. She frowned at it, reminded of her own poster.

"They do a hel-heck," she changed, quickly, "Um, wow they do a good job."

"Yours are – good, too, Emma," Henry said politely, tilting his head at the poster just like she had earlier, "And she needs all the help she can get."

"I think she'd like Ruby's help better." Emma trashed her flyers, and ruffled Henry's hair. "I'm gonna go get some of their help instead."

"Can I come?" Henry asked eagerly, dismounting from his bike.

"Sure- wait, where's your mom?" Emma wanted to know first as they walked along the sidewalk together.

"The Evil Queen? Plotting the ball," Henry shrugged dismissively.

Emma grinned at him, "You make it sound like a trap or something."

"With Miss Blanchard running against her? I'm sure it will be," Henry said, meaning every word. Emma chuckled, before Henry added hastily, "Just promise me you won't eat anything with apples in it."

She ruffled his hair again, pulling his head into the crook of her arm, "I won't, Kid, I won't."

~: Belle :~

Running the cash register was the hardest thing she had to deal with, she decided as she took over a tray of food to a couple at the back. There were far too many buttons to deal with, and she didn't like that it didn't even make sense half of the time. Ruby had told her that it was an old piece of junk and not to worry about not getting the hang of it at first. Apparently nobody did.

"Here you go," she smiled at them. They nodded their appreciation, before turning back to their conversation.

She sighed, looking back at the clock on the wall. It was almost eleven, and she worked until closing, which was at one. She rubbed her eyes. At that moment she felt solar powered, just like Emma had said.

She hadn't understood why people kept accidentally leaving their money on the table, finally running to Ruby to exclaim, "I give them their change and they leave part of it- why?"

"It's called a tip, sweetheart. They do it because they liked you, and it is part of your paycheck," Ruby smiled at her, assuring, before looking back at the books of inventory that the diner kept.

"Oh- right," Belle nodded her understanding.

"And pull your skirt up. It'll look cuter that way," Ruby told her, gesturing at her with her pen. Belle didn't know how Ruby connected more bare skin to cute.

"Order up!" came the call from the back, jarring Belle back to reality.

Belle stepped to get it, and came back to see Ruby, Ashley, Emma and Mary Margret coming into the restaurant the first two laughing loudly. She smiled as they sat around down in a booth, tugging at her really short skirt as she went to get the order. She hoped Rumpelstiltskin wasn't watching too closely. She was so embarrassed by it, had tugged it as far down as she could without revealing her stomach. She was worried that if she bent over even an inch it would reveal more of her than she'd ever revealed to anyone willingly, well, besides the years spent in the asylum.

"For table ten," he told her, and she nodded her thanks.

She took it over to the lone stranger who was sipping his coffee contentedly and reading a book in a booth next to Mary Margret's and Emma's.

"Here you are," she smiled at him.

He nodded his thanks absently.

"What are you reading?" she wondered as she put his food down in front of him.

"A book of poems- I'm reading The Stolen Child," he asked, in the familiar daze she knew all too well. He was in a different world, and she was intruding on it.

"_O come away o human child_

_ To the waters and the wild_

_ With a fairy hand in hand_

_ For the world's more full of weeping, than you can understand_ – I like it," she decided as she stepped back.

"You know W.B. Yeats?" he asked her, looking up at her for the first time.

Belle shook her head, "No, I read it over your shoulder just now, but I do like it."

"Thanks, me too," he grinned brightly. She knew the recognition there, a fellow booklover.

"I'll let you get back to your book," Belle said, excusing herself, and walked behind him to the booth with her friends all seated around it. She'd met Ashley earlier when she'd come in to take Ruby's shift, and she'd immediately liked her. "Hi, everyone, can I take your orders?"

"Cup of coffee," Emma said, looking thoroughly as fatigued as Belle felt.

"Isabelle, honey, you look tired," Ashley said, her voice full of concern.

"I'm fine," Belle smiled at her kindly.

"You're wearing the uniform wrong," Ruby informed her, standing up to adjust it. She hiked her skirt up and tucked her shirt under it, Belle left shaking and a little embarrassed after she was done. Then again, she had been forced to change in front of a nurse for 28 years. "There," Ruby grinned, stepping away to admire her handiwork, "You look hot."

On the contrary Belle felt cold. There was no cloth to cover her up and she swore they were pumping chilly air into the room on purpose. She just smiled as best she could as Ashley agreed, reaching from behind and tugging at the hem.

"Hey, Isabelle, could I get a hot chocolate?" Mary Margret asked politely. "With a ting of cinnamon in it?"

"Of course," Belle smiled, scrawling hot chocolate with cinnamon on her notepad, along with COFFEE in bold. Emma looked like she needed it. "How goes the campaign?"

"It's great," Ashley grinned, putting both of her hands on the table eagerly. "It's almost as fun as planning a wedding."

"Planning a wedding is fun?" Emma groaned in disbelief, rubbing her head.

"Sure it is. And we have to go dress shopping with you tomorrow, Mary Margret," Ashley told her, looking at Mary Margret, who just smiled under all the attention. She handled it like a queen.

"Make sure it's white," Belle inserted pointedly, wielding her pencil around to Ruby and Ashley. If she was going to try and make everyone else in the town remember that Mary Margret was indeed Snow White, then she was going to have to work at it.

"White?" Ashley sounded surprised.

"White's kind of a marriage color," Ruby's tone was doubtful.

"I think she'd look really pretty in white," Belle wasn't fazed by their qualms.

"You're right," Emma said, actually joining in, and was surprised by herself that she was joining in. "We'll get you a white dress."

"Good, because I already had one in mind," Mary Margret smiled easily.

"So can I get you guys anything else?" she asked the table before they moved on to conversation.

"No I've got to get home," Ashley said, glancing guiltily at the clock.

"And I have a party to get to," Ruby stood up, and pulled Belle's skirt up high again. "Leave it that way. Trust me it's sexy." She winked at her, before following Ashley out of the door of the diner. Sexy? She felt herself blushing in shame.

Mary Margret shared a knowing smile with her before Belle went to go place their orders.

Someone else came in- did people in Storybrooke sleep? She wondered as she turned to her horror to find a Doctor- the Doctor from her dungeon. She felt herself stop as he sat down at a booth opposite the stranger's. Doctor- Doctor Whale. That had been his name. She felt Rumpelstiltskin at her back, felt him lance anger at the Doctor, but she shook her head slightly. She could deal with this. She swallowed her fear, taking the coffee and the hot chocolate over to her friends.

She half stalked over to him. "Hi, what can I get for you?" she said automatically.

"Where's Ruby?" he asked, surprised.

"I took over her night shift so she could start working on learning how to do the books with Granny," Belle informed him.

"Oh," he seemed deflated, but looked at her for the first time. And smiled jarringly, "Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"No, sorry," she lied easily. People had been asking that all day, and she assumed it was because of the flyers that had once had been posted around town a while ago. She was glad nobody recognized her from those yet. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"The regular, please," he said flippantly.

"Regular?" she inquired, feeling dumb for asking. She hated feeling dumb.

"Oh, right, sorry, you're new huh? What's your name again?" the Doctor gestured vaguely. She hadn't given it.

"It's B- Isabelle," she said, correcting herself quickly.

"Well, Isabelle," he smiled, it slithering across his face. She repressed the urge to shudder. "I like number three on the menu. And a pint of whatever's on tap."

"A pint of what?" she asked, thinking that everything came in ounces in this world.

"Beer," he told her, obviously pegging her to be stupid.

"Alright," Belle twisted her mouth at him. She turned to go get his food, and he caught her hand. She turned back, the gesture feeling a little too intimate. "Yes?" she asked.

"Get me an extra side of potatoes, please?" he smiled again.

"Of course," she told him curtly, tugging her hand away and walking quickly to the other side of the room. She gave the order to the cook, who nodded and pulled the food right out, as though he'd expected it. She grimaced, looking at the plate and then looking back at the table. She didn't want to go back to him already.

Taking a breath, she steadied herself.

She got him his beer, and took it over to him without a word, before going back to Emma and Mary Margret again. They and the strange poem reader were the only other people in the restaurant. "Anything else you guys need?"

"No, we're ok," Mary Margret smiled kindly. "We're just about to go, actually."

"Mhmm," Emma groaned, pointing at Mary Margret, who patted her back.

"I think that the girls tired her out a little," Mary Margret made a face, and Belle hid a smile.

"Can I help tomorrow? With posting flyers and with your campaign?" Belle asked, wanting to help.

Mary Margret nodded with a smile, "Of course, the more the merrier!"

"I call being Isabelle's partner. You three can go gab about dresses without me," Emma grumbled, rubbing her forehead.

Belle smiled, "We can put up flyers together."

"Emma," said a voice that startled all three of them. It was the poem reader, standing behind her with the book in his hand. "Might I have a word?"

"As long as we can walk towards my apartment while we go," Emma said, standing, but looking much more alert. She eyed the man with appreciation.

"Who is that?" Belle whispered to Mary Margret as Emma walked out of the diner with the strange man.

"I think it might be the Mr. August W. Booth," Mary Margret grinned hopefully. "I'll explain later. I'll see you tomorrow, Isabelle," she smiled, before hurrying after them out of the door, leaving Belle alone with the Doctor.

"Can I get another pint?" he asked her.

"Coming right up," she said hesitantly, going around the counter, and wished that Rumpelstiltskin was there with her.

~: Emma :~

"So what's up?" Emma wanted to know, sticking her hands in her pockets.

He wrapped his hands around his back, holding onto the book, "You're very direct, Sheriff."

"It gets my job done," she shrugged.

"Well, you could circumvent things, bring them up slowly. I hear it helps in questioning," he smiled, sounding obliging. She eyed him again. She barely knew the man, and yet she'd gotten on the back of his motorcycle on a whim. She didn't know if she could trust herself around him.

"Uh huh. I hear tangents are good too," she mentioned pointedly.

He chuckled. "Tangents are good too," he repeated, fondly.

"So, what do you want?" Emma didn't know how much more direct she could be. She wanted to get whatever this was out of the way. The man was too mysterious for his own good.

"I know we've only been on one, well, shall we say, drink?" he said, sensing that the word "date" would not have gone over well with Emma. He tilted his head, and continued, "But I feel rather, um, compelled to go to this Charity Ball. I'm sure you feel the same?"

"I do, actually," she said, straightening at the thought as it surprised her. She felt a strange need to attend. It was really weird, now that she thought about it.

"I didn't want to go alone," he said quickly, bringing her back to the present, "and I was wondering-."

"No," she cut him off.

He blinked his surprise, obviously taken aback by her reply, "I think that was the fastest rejection I've ever gotten," he said, a small forced smile on his face.

"Yeah, well," Emma said, trying not to feel guilty, "That's me." She scuffed the sole of her boot against the sidewalk. She didn't need someone in her life, and especially not one that she didn't even know that well. If he was going to be enigmatic he should know how frank she was going to be in return.

He stopped to look at her, his gaze penetrating, "I know."

"She didn't mean that!" Mary Margret said quickly from behind, startling both of them.

Emma turned to look at her, confusion clear, "I think I did mean that."

"No, no she didn't," Mary Margret explained, rushing up to them, staring at August. "She'll think about it." She took Emma by the arm, who was looking at her incredulously. What did she think she was doing, messing around in Emma's business?

"Are you sure she will?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he glanced at Emma.

"Yes- yes I'm sure," Mary Margret nodded, her face eager, open.

"I'm not," Emma stated blankly, glaring at her roommate pointedly.

Mary Margret elbowed her, and smiled at August encouragingly.

"Alright, then I will bid both you ado," he half bowed, before walking pleasantly away in the opposite direction.

"Goodnight!" Mary Margret waved after him.

"What was that?" Emma demanded, breaking away from Mary Margret and stalking away angrily.

Mary Margret jogged to catch up, "What do you mean what was that? I can't believe you said no! He's totally into you!" she sounded exasperated and giddy at the same time. It was head achingly familiar.

"Uh huh. You're starting to sound like Ashley," Emma growled.

Mary Margret sighed, her breath a puff of smoke, "Well, just think about it, Emma."

She didn't have to think about it, "I don't even know him," Emma pointed out fiercely.

"Well, try," Mary Margret said, looking determined to make this work.

It wasn't going to happen, "I don't want to," Emma barked, walking faster and ducking her head.

"Why?" Mary Margret questioned, getting in her face.

Emma whirled on her, "Because! It's too soon!" she shouted.

Mary Margret knew her too well to be affronted, "Too soon since what?" she asked gingerly.

"Since Gra-." Emma stopped herself abruptly, stopped herself from saying his name aloud. She couldn't believe herself. She pursed her lips into a thin line, jutting her jaw forward.

"Since-? Graham?" Mary Margret finished, and Emma jerked her head away at the name. "Oh Emma, I'm sorry…" Mary Margret stepped forward timidly, but Emma just backed away, as though the name were a whip and Mary Margret was wielding it. Mary Margret's voice was soft, "But I think, I think Graham would want you to move on."

"How would you know?" Emma spat.

"Because he liked you a lot," she said gently, her eyes powerful as they looked into Emma's, "and I like you a lot, and when you like someone, you want them to be happy. He wants you to be happy, Emma," she stated, determination in her voice. When she saw that Emma wasn't going to say anything, that she was going to wait out in the cold until Mary Margret left alone, Mary Margret tried to smile, tried to heal the wound she'd reopened, "Just, think about it, ok?" she prompted, and walked away slowly.

Now she'd hurt Mary Margret. It was painful, the way she kept hurting her best friend over and over again. Why couldn't she just be kind to her, like Mary Margret was kind to Emma? She was so unconditional. How could Emma learn to be like that? How was she going to say sorry to her?

Well one thing was for sure, Emma decided as she stalked in a third direction, away from both August's and Mary Margret's and right into the open road. She could tell she wasn't sleeping tonight.

~: Belle :~

He kept wanting more beer.

Belle was exhausted. It was 12:19. She'd never really thought about 12 o'clock rolling around twice in one day, but here it was, twice, in one day. The music in the back ground on the radio was lulling her to sleep. It was much better than the song that sang of International Love, and then spoke of three national cities, New York, Los Angles, and Miami, in the chorus. Didn't singers in this country know anything?

"_You only know, what I want you to…"_ a man's voice sung.

"_I know everything you don't want me to…_" a woman's voice countered.

She smiled as she thought about the lyrics, half swaying as she wondered what she would have to do to get Rumpelstiltskin to dance with her. She'd always loved to dance.

"_Your mouth is poison, your mouth is wine…"_ his voice sounded once more, and the phrase struck her. She listened more keenly.

"_You think your dreams are the same as mine…"_ her voice echoed again. She bit her lip at that. She hoped his dreams were the same as hers…

"Hey, I'm gonna take a break," the cook told her. "You gonna be ok by yourself?" he asked, startling her from her listening stupor.

"I'll be fine," she smiled easily. He'd been really kind to her, showing her how the tap worked and how the cash register worked multiple times now. He was more patient than the customers were, at least. "Thank you."

"Must've been a hard day at work," the man said, shaking his head at the Doctor who was still drinking to his heart's content. That was true. Belle hadn't thought of that. He probably had had a hard day at work, and just needed to forget. She understood that feeling all too well.

"Hey- Belle- I- ha, I rang," the Doctor laughed to himself in the corner.

He hadn't done anything to hurt her- he didn't even recognize her. She shouldn't be so harsh on him… She waved away the feeling of Rumpelstiltskin's, the need for her to stay away, which had increased since the cook had left.

"What can I get for you?" she smiled at him carefully.

"More beer?" he asked, holding his fifth glass.

"Does it help?" she wanted to know, making a face.

"Beer?" he paused before he drank the last swallow to look at her. "Yup, yup it helps."

"What happened?" she asked, her expression a calculated amount of sad.

"Lost- Lost a patient today," he hiccupped, waving his glass around.

Belle bit her lip, not knowing how to respond. "I'm sor-."

"And then oh so powerful Miss Mayor lady is still mad that I lost that psyche ward girl- it wasn't even my fault, ok? It – it was – and I tried to get – but then Mr. Gold tripped me," Belle felt her heart stop. Rumpelstiltskin had tripped him that night? No wonder they hadn't been able to catch up to her and Henry! "– he tripped me, alright? I didn't- it wasn't -," he stopped himself, blinking, probably forgetting his train of thought. She remembered all too well how Gaston had been when he was drunk. This man wasn't much different. He looked at his empty glass, "More, please."

"Maybe you've had enough," Belle smiled at him tentatively, folding her hands in front of her.

"No!" the Doctor slammed the glass on the table, "No, bring more."

Belle shook her head, "Dr. Whale, I don't think it's such a good idea."

"Here- money, I've got money," he said, pulling out green bills that were the currency in this country.

Belle bit her lip. "I really don't think I should."

He looked angry, "I'm a paying customer! The customer is always right!"

Belle nodded, remembering that Granny had told her that earlier today when she'd been training her, turning to go, when something caught on her skirt. She peered around to see what it had caught on.

"I like your- your skirt," Dr. Whale hiccupped, feeling the hem between his fingers. "Ruby- wears shorts. So- let's see what's-."

Belle got over her shock, and immediately slapped him across the face. He looked flabbergasted, staggered by what she had done, but she felt no sympathy as the red mark brightened on his cheekbone. She inhaled angrily, and then felt a pulse of energy next to her-

Suddenly, something swift and black whacked Dr. Whale over the head. He collapsed, head knocking into the table before his body began to sag onto the floor. Belle gasped, and turned right into Rumpelstiltskin, who grabbed her arms, staring her up and down, his cane in one hand, pressing into her arm.

"Are you alright?" his voice was low, a growl deep in his throat.

"I'm- I'm fine," she said, her voice shaking a bit, but not from what had happened with Dr. Whale, but at his appearance, and his expression. It was black, roiling, more frightening than anything the now unconscious Doctor could fathom.

He seethed at the poor Doctor, turning to face him. "Let's see if Storybrooke can lose another _patient_, Doct-."

"Rumpelstiltskin, no," Belle interrupted, trying to sound calm, stepping in front of him.

He glowered past her, "He shouldn't have come here," he fumed.

"He didn't mean any harm," Belle said, trying to apologize for the unconscious man, because the face that Rumpelstiltskin was wearing was one to murder. _He had only been drinking, and I can take care of myself_, she wanted to add, opened her mouth to do so.

"Do you realize what he could have done?" Rumpelstiltskin snarled, his cane in hand, looking to be used as a weapon.

"Please! Stop!" Belle said, planting herself in front of the booth, blocking the Doctor from view.

"Get out! Of the way," his voice was livid, barely contained. If she hadn't been who she was to him, she might have been terrified out of her mind, but she knew Rumpelstiltskin, loved him. He would not harm her.

"No!" she shouted, spreading her arms wide, staring into his face.

He stopped then, looking back at her, and his eyes softened, his features slowly taming themselves. He stepped away, bowing his head, seemingly abashed. His shoulders were still stiff, shaking with rage.

"You're too good to people," he spat, and she smiled fondly, before placing both of her hands gently on his face. His free hand pressed one of her hands closer to him, closing his eyes.

"Thank you, for coming," she said as sweetly as she knew, staring at him through her eyelashes. "I've been wishing you were here all night."

"I know," he said softly. "You're not meant to be up late."

"I never was a night owl," she looked away, and then amended, "Unless it came to books."

"Unless it came to books," he agreed with a small smile.

She kissed him quickly, pressing her mouth to his gently, before pulling away, and pushed the hair from his eyes.

"Belle," he said, and his eyes were full of an emotion that made her feel like she was flying, and then a sarcastic thought must have passed through him, because it lanced through his expression, "That's the second time I've hit that man with my cane. If it happens a third time, I'm going to kill him," he gestured to him with that cane.

"Killing never was the answer," she reminded him with a sarcastic smile of her own.

"Ah, I must have missed that in school as lad. I just know the answer to everything is 42," he teased. She didn't quite get the joke.

"42?" she questioned.

He chuckled, "You'll have to read it to find out, my dear," he pulled her hand from his face, "For now, however, I must bid thee farewell."

"Farewell, it is then…" she said, feeling his hand still in hers. He didn't move to go, and neither did she. Breaking the silence and the melody of a song that crooned, "_These are the scars that words have carved, on me,_" she said, "I could have handled him on my own, you know." She put a hand on her hip.

"I know," he told her.

Her eyebrows raised, "Then why did you come?"

"Your punishment was nowhere _near_ harsh enough." His smirk was as dark as his voice, his eyes flashing dangerously.

She made a face at him, "It really isn't his fault though. It's this ridiculous outfit. I feel like I'm in a brothel," she tugged on the skirt, trying to make it at least cover 1/3 of her legs. She was so embarrassed to be standing here, with him, dressed so immodestly.

He was staring pointedly behind her. "We'll see what we can do to get you more appropriate attire. Here comes Granny."

Belle straightened up just as Granny came through the door to the opposite "Belle, it's about time to start closing- oh, Mr. Gold. Here to collect?" Her voice hardened.

"Not today, no. I came for a slice of pie, when I spied our good Doctor here, -," he halted there, Belle sensing he was too angry at the memory to continue, so she filled in.

"He stopped Dr. Whale from touching me," she said, watching Rumpelstiltskin's hand turn into a fist around his cane. "He, um, he was trying to see up my, um,-," she paused too, pulling down at the hem of her skirt with both of her hands.

"He does get a little frisky when he's had too much to drink. Poor fellow, must have been a hard day at work. He doesn't lose many, but when he does-," Granny shook her head, and then looked past them both. "So why is he passed out on the bench?"

"I felt it appropriate to stop a fight before it started," Mr. Gold inserted smoothly.

"A fight?" Granny asked.

Belle winced, before answering, "I – um – I slapped him-."

Granny outright laughed at that. "Well, we might have one less customer to keep us up late, but at least he knows where we stand on that kind of nonsense here."

"I'm not- in trouble then?" Belle asked timidly.

"No, no," Granny waved it off, "But don't you go slapping every customer. Then we'll have a problem."

Belle smiled slightly, before continuing, "Also, um, I was wondering, would there be any way I could wear white pants, or maybe a longer skirt?"

"Oh, yes of course, sweetie, I get embarrassed just looking at Ruby in her outfit, so I understand where you're coming from. We'll get you a proper skirt in the morning," she waved at Belle to show how much it didn't matter to her.

"Thank you," Belle smiled broadly.

"Well, hurry up and get Mr. Gold his pie," Granny told her, and Belle snapped to it, walking towards the counter, "I'm going to head up to bed. Tell cook to show you how to close up. And get Dr. Whale someone to take him home."

"Alright," Belle nodded at her as she passed to go stand behind the counter. Granny left as Rumpelstiltskin sat on a bar stool. She leaned forward, smiling, "Now, what kind of pie would you like today, _Mr. Gold_?" she emphasized with teasing.

"I believe I want a slice of that blueberry," he told her, noting her sarcasm with a grim smirk of his own, leaning forward also on his forearm.

"I'll bring it right out," she promised, bounding back with a plate in a flash. She gave it to him, along with a fork. "Hey, I was wondering, tomorrow, between my jobs, could you teach me how to drive a car?"

"Teach you- to drive a car?" he repeated, stopping his process of cutting away at the tip of the pie to look at her skeptically.

"Yeah, I want to learn," she said blatantly.

"And you want me to teach you," he sounded surprised.

"Yep. I feel like I need to learn someday soon anyways," she smiled, walking around the counter to go get the leftover mess created by Dr. Whale.

"To drive," he repeated.

This concept shouldn't be so difficult, she thought, gathering the plate and the glasses from the table Dr. Whale was still unconsciously occupying. "What?"

"Picturing you driving is," he shook his head, a smile forming, before he looked back at her puzzled face with an amused expression. "Alright. I'll teach you to drive."

"Excellent, so around 6:30 tomorrow?" she said as she stepped closer, balancing the glasses and plate on a large round tray, remembering when the library closed. That gave her an hour until she had to be back here at the diner.

"As you wish," he smiled at her, amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"We can be sneaky about it, keep out of Regina's sight," she suggested, feeling as though he were still concerned about it.

"That's not it," he told her. When her questioning look took effect on him, he answered, "It took me years to step into the metal death traps without shaking. You're adapting so quickly."

She smiled proudly, "Yeah, because who knows? We might have hover crafts soon!"

He groaned, putting his hand over his face, "You got into the science fiction section, today, didn't you?"

"Only for fifteen minutes," she admitted guiltily.

He peered through his fingers at her, "Too long."

She grinned, "I have to take these to the kitchen," she gestured to the tray, "I'll be back in a moment."

When she did come back, which took longer than a moment, he was waiting for her, his pie almost completely eaten. He looked up at her sharply, piercingly, "Are you really alright?"

"I promise I'm fine," she vowed, leaning against the counter, "Thank you for coming though. I did want to see you."

"And I really have to leave now. Finish this for me, will you?" he asked, standing, and sliding the almost empty plate towards her. It was most of the crust that was left- he'd never liked the crust of anything. She smiled fondly, remembering how that had bothered her early on at Dark Castle, because he wouldn't eat the crust of her bread, only eating the insides of most things. Finally she had demanded if they tasted bad, and he'd laughed in her face, saying he just didn't like crusts. It was an odd concept to her, because she'd always loved crusts. He knew that about her too.

His hand caught hers, and then, just as he was bringing it to his lips, a smile sparked across his face and he vanished, without a trace of smoke.

She shook her head, lowering her head, to hide her smile in her hair, "You always did love your theatrics," she muttered, fiddling with the pie crust he'd left behind.

"What was that?" the cook had come back.

"Nothing," she told him, before smiling into her first bite. Granny made excellent blueberry pie.

**A/N: Guys… phew… sixteen pages… so, tired… **

**ANYWAYS, HAPPY PIE DAY! – I had to add that last bit in with Rumple and Belle sharing pie, just because Pie Day is an important holiday. We've had a pie today at my apartment for this very purpose. Go celebrate by eating pie! **


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: T.T guys… I just discovered I've been spelling Mary Margret's name wrong THIS ENTIRE TIME! It's Mary Margaret, not Mary Margret. I forgot the A… and now, 200 pages later, I don't know what else to do but leave it. (Yes, you heard me right, 200 pages. Yes, I could be writing my own novel, which only has 106 pages, but I just love Rumbelle SO much right now!)**

**ANYWAYS! To all those new readers out there who just hopped on the wagon- I love ya! :D**

**And to all those readers who have been on the wagon since the beginning – I love ya too! ;) (but see, you already knew that).**

**You're absolutely amazing! **

**Enjoy! **

Chapter 24

~: Henry :~

He left early enough on his bike to get to Granny's Diner before school, posting spare flyers on posts when he had to wait to cross the street. This was great!

Reinstalling Miss Blanchard as Queen- brilliant! Even if Emma didn't believe him, she was helping to break the curse, he was sure of it! Henry grinned, looking at the clock tower as he waited for the light to turn red.

It was working still. He remembered being younger and sneaking into the library to try to find the lost entrance to the second story. He hadn't been able to. It had been too messy, and he hadn't gotten enough time. Ever since the clock had started to work again, though, he hadn't thought about it as more than just a good omen. It was a sign that things were moving, changing, that the curse was unraveling. It had already begun to unravel. Hansel and Gretel had been reunited with their family, for one. Ruby and Granny were getting along better. Ashley and Sean were getting married. Most importantly Rumpelstiltskin was back in action. If the Evil Queen couldn't see all this happening, then she was blind.

The light turned red, and he peddled to get to Granny's.

The diner was buzzing this morning. Henry had to shove his way into the place, looking for Belle. She had sent him a message, saying to come get the book. It'd been way too long since he'd read it, but apparently she had now made two copies, one she was storing at her place, and the other was hidden at Emma's. It was brilliant.

He saw Emma and Ruby, at the front of the crowd. He saw Mr. Gold- no, _Rumpelstiltskin_, sitting in the only available booth. Everyone else had been crammed into all the other nooks and crannies.

"What's going on?" Henry demanded, slinging his book bag off and sitting down across from him.

Rumpelstiltskin's gaze rest lightly on him, "It's a gathering."

He shoulda known he wasn't going to get a direct answer from him, "Yeah, but why?"

He merely pointed one long finger at the front where Ruby was trying to calm everyone down at the front.

"Hey!" Emma shouted, and everyone stopped talking, "Listen up!" Everyone was listening. Henry smiled proudly. That was his mom alright. Henry sat up on his knees, head resting on his hands on the back of the booth seat. Emma looked to Ruby, who stepped forward.

"Wow, you guys, I wasn't expecting this much of a turn out, but, um-," Ruby gathered herself, "We're here today because we're starting up a campaign, and I know the Mayor already has a lot of the advantage, but, we all know Mary Margret. We know how much she does for the community, and she's always quiet about it. She teaches your children, she volunteers her service to people in the hospital, people at the shelter, to you. All of you know Mary Margret's helped you in some way, been there for you when you needed a friend. So let's give back." Ruby stepped forward, her eyes bright and wide, "Let's get her elected. She deserves this chance, and we can give it to her!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd, leaving Henry buffeted backwards by the noise.

"Alright! I need people to divide up into sections! We need creative people, and people who are willing to-," Ruby went on, delegating jobs to people over the noise of the diner.

"Wow," Henry grinned, turning to plop down in front of Mr. Gold, "I knew Red was cool, but not this cool!"

"Such a speech for such a frivolous competition," Rumpelstiltskin shook his head, though he looked pleased. "I've heard kings give poorer to go into battle."

"What's war like?" Henry turned to face him.

Rumpelstiltskin's eyes darkened, "Not something to discuss with you, princeling."

Henry wasn't going to let that faze him. "You fought in the Ogre Wars. Were they really all that terrible?"

"Henry! You made it!" Belle interrupted, leaving Henry's question unanswered. She smiled warmly at Rumpelstiltskin.

"Hey, Belle," Henry greeted her, sitting up on his knees to lean towards her more, "Do you have my book?"

"I surely do! Let me retrieve it," she grinned, and then turned back to look at Rumpelstiltskin, "Is there anything you want to drink?"

He was standing though, grabbing his cane. He wasn't looking at her. "I was leaving," he grumbled as he shouldered past her.

"Oh," her voice was sorrowful, though Henry watched his hand brush along her arm as he left. Adults were weird.

"He's just making sure the Queen doesn't find out," Henry told her when her gaze followed him out of the diner.

"Find out about what?" Emma inquired, hands on hips as she stepped up to the booth next to Belle.

Henry tried to invent, "Find out about -," he stuttered, failing to think of anything.

"About Mary Margret entering the contest," Belle inserted quickly.

"Yeah…" Emma looked at her, and Henry knew that she could tell that Belle was lying to her, but she let it drop. "Pretty intense speech, right?" she nodded at them.

"Yes, yes it was," Belle agreed with surprised fervor.

"Red is so cool!" Henry declared with a broad grin.

Emma bobbed her head in agreement, before saying, "It's just for a stupid ball, though. I feel like I'm back in high school."

Henry couldn't believe what she was saying, "It's not just some stupid ball, Emma!" he exclaimed, sitting up on his knees again. "This is serious! It could set everything in motion for Operation: Cobra!" He threw his hands up in the air.

"How so Kid?" Emma wanted to know.

"If Mary Margret beats the Mayor, then that means that she'll be in charge of all the charitable committees that Storybrooke has, and on the City Council," Henry grinned. Mary Margret and Emma (because she was the town's sheriff) on the City Council. It was going to be hard to overthrow that kind of team, even for the Evil Queen. "Oh, and she'll be in charge of next year's ball," he added flippantly.

"What? Whoa, why does winning this crown put her on City Council?" Emma demanded, leaning in to hear Henry's response.

"It's kind of like an election, to see who the nicest person is, because it means that they're thinking about everyone's needs," Henry explained to her.

"And you're telling me that Regina has won this for how many years?" Emma wanted to know, her voice dripping with sarcastic incredulity.

"I know, right? So if Mary Margret wins-," Henry continued.

"You mean _when_ Mary Margret wins," Ruby inserted, coming up from behind.

"Right, _when_ Mary Margret wins," Henry grinned, "she'll have a say on stuff that happens in town. She can help with the budgets, and kind of take away some of the power Regina has." Too much power for the Evil Queen's liking. He couldn't wait.

Emma looked somewhat abashed, folding her arms, "Geez, I had no idea we were attacking her so directly."

"Yep," Ruby grinned wolfishly, "so get your as- _butt_, in gear, Sheriff, because we're gonna need all the help we can get," and she slapped Emma on the bum to prove her point, before stalking away into the crowd with a whoop.

Emma turned to glare in disbelief after her. Henry hid a giggle behind his hand.

"I'll be back with the book," Belle said, patting the table in front of him, wisely excusing herself.

"And can I have a hot chocolate?" Henry called after her. Belle nodded before she was elbowed out of view.

"Shouldn't you be getting to school?" Emma wanted to know, and Henry smiled sheepishly.

"Not for another seven minutes," he said through his smile. Emma narrowed her eyes, trying to keep her mouth from smiling, so Henry smiled wider, hoping to encourage her nicer course of action – letting him stay until he got his book back.

"Emma, I need your help!" Ruby called over the hullabaloo. "You're in charge of the-!"

"In charge of the what?" Emma shouted back.

"Just get over here!" Ruby commanded.

Emma rolled her eyes, before looking back at Henry, whose smile got even wider. "You. Go to school. Mary Margret's nice- it doesn't mean you get to skip, ok?"

"I wasn't going to skip!" Henry countered.

"Yeah, but you skip all the time!" Emma shouted as she began to leave him. Henry made a face, tilting his head back and forth. It was true, he skipped school a lot. But who needed to learn how to spell "majorette" and "curmudgeon" when he could be fighting on troll bridges and battling ogres in less than a year?

"This is crazy!" he heard Emma say to Belle as they switched places.

"Taking down a dictatorship always is," Belle smiled to Henry, handing Henry his book, which he promptly stuffed in his bag. She leaned towards him, "Hey. I need to know how we can help Emma break the curse."

"I'm not sure- I mean, I know, but it's kinda vague," Henry said, making a face.

"As it should be. Aren't all curses?" she smiled teasingly.

"Could you talk to Rumpelstiltskin about it?" Henry suggested.

Belle shook her head automatically, "No- he won't say anything he doesn't want to."

"Doesn't he want to break the curse?" Henry frowned in confusion. He'd said as much back at the cabin.

Belle shrugged, "I'm not sure. I think he does, but right now he's kind of happy," her smile grew at her last words.

"Well, who can blame him?" Henry wondered in all honesty.

Belle laughed happily, "There was something-." She leaned in closer, her blue eyes keen, "I found my way to the second story of the library yesterday."

Henry blinked in surprise, and then gasped, "You did?"

She nodded, continuing, with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "and there was another door, but it was locked tight. Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't open it. He told me to leave it alone."

His curiosity was immediately peaked. "What do you think is up there?" he wondered.

"I don't know, but it might be important," Belle said furtively.

"I've been looking for a way into that clock tower for ages. I wanted to start the clock again, but then I realized Emma had to come back first, and ever since then it's been working. I never thought that there might be something else," he told her truthfully.

Belle nodded in acknowledgement. "We should go find out."

"When?" Henry asked eagerly.

Belle bit her lip, "I don't know. I'm really busy."

Henry made an annoyed face, "That's a grown up excuse for I don't want to."

"No, that's a grown up truth for I wish I could but I don't know when," Belle smiled, putting her hands on her hips, "Look, I've got driving lessons tonight, but maybe tomorrow night?"

"Driving lessons?" Henry asked in surprise.

"Yep!" she smiled proudly.

Henry didn't get it. "Why do you need to learn how to drive?"

"Why is everyone questioning my motives?" Belle said with an exasperated smile, throwing her hands theatrically up.

"Because at this rate we'll only be here a few more months," Henry beamed.

"What?" Belle wondered, a crease in her brow.

"You know, if we keep restoring memories and reuniting people, then the curse should be broken soon. I think," Henry told her.

"Well, until then, I am going to learn to drive, and that's that," Belle said, and Henry was surprised that she wasn't as excited as he thought she'd be. Didn't she want to be a princess again? She snapped to attention, focusing on Henry. "And shouldn't you be getting to school?"

Henry glanced at the clock, "Aw, shoot, I'm late!" he yelped, flinging his now much heavier book bag on his back and shoving his way to the door.

"See you later, Henry!" Belle called to him.

"Bye Belle!" he shouted back, lifting a hand so she could see him wave, before squeezing out of the door and down the diner's steps.

~: David :~

David had parked his car, and was waiting to cross the street. He planned on going to Granny's to get coffee before work, going about his usual morning routine a little later than usual today. Mary Margret had said she wouldn't be there due to the fact that she had a teacher's meeting with the other fourth grade teachers. It happened about once a month, sometimes twice, but this was the third time this month. He wondered what they were talking about that took up so much time in the mornings? He was sad he was going to miss her again, especially during their morning ritual. He hoped he'd see her around sometime today. No. He'd make sure he'd see her sometime today.

The ball was next Wednesday, a week away. He knew because he was counting down the days until he was going to ask Mary Margret if they could be official. The ball was already doing that, but he couldn't wait to ask her- he had it all planned, all planned for her. Because she deserved a night with a happy ending.

"Hi David!" Henry yelled as he peddled by on the sidewalk.

"Hey Kid! Shouldn't you be heading to school?" David wondered after him, cupping a hand to his face.

"Yeah!" Henry called over his shoulder, before concentrating on forward motion.

David shook his head at the kid with a smile, and made to cross the street.

Something bright caught his eye. He turned to see the lamppost with a flyer on it.

"Mary Margret Blanchard for Spring Queen!" read the caption. There she was, a beautiful smile on her face, a smile that lit her green eyes. He took the flyer off the lamppost, getting a closer look at what it said, before it hit him.

He blinked in astonishment. Mary Margret was running for Spring Queen? What did that mean, exactly? Had she been planning on doing this? Did she need help with it?

She would need help. It sounded like a large project to him. He could help her. Apparently the Mayor had been Spring Queen for years now. He could see to it that Mary Margret was chosen this year. He would see to it.

Mary Margret deserved it. She deserved it after every minute of torment he'd caused her, because of Kathryn, because of their affair, because of her arrest, because of everything. She deserved it, more than anyone. To prove to everyone that she was the most wonderful, the most right person in all the land.

He smiled slowly, brightly, reaching into his pocket for his cell phone.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He had been looking forward to visiting her during her lunch break.

That was, until he discovered that she was asleep.

She was curled up in the red armchair he'd occupied just yesterday when she'd beaten him at chess, a paperback book barely dangling from her hand. She was so tired from working until one in the morning, and then getting up at 5:40 to get to Granny's to open up. He didn't know how she was going to manage it. It was good that she had night shifts off on Sundays and Mondays, and on Fridays and Saturdays she had the morning shift off. Not to mention that the library was closed on Sundays. She would be able to catch up on sleep at those times if nothing else. But Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays were going to be hard on her.

She'd cleaned the windows. The sun now radiated into the room, making it warm, shining on her face, illuminating her skin. There were dark rings under her eyes. While he was unhappy with them, he knew Belle wouldn't have it any other way. She was doing things she loved to do, loved to learn, to be busy. He was not going to take that from her, even if she slept through lunch breaks.

The book was about to slip- it would wake her if it fell. He took it from her fingers before it could, setting it on the rickety table next to her.

It'd been silly for him to come. He had known she was asleep, but before she'd drifted off, she had wished very strongly, very purposefully, that he would come. He'd only been a minute too late. It was well enough. She would have been dropping off while they spoke, and he had a few errands to run in the meantime.

However, she would kill him if he left the book open on its spine. She'd gotten angry once at Dark Castle, he remembered with a snicker, about him leaving the books open all around. It damaged them, apparently. At first he hadn't bothered with her scolding, and then he had begun leaving books open everywhere, if only to have Belle storm around collecting them all and cradling them to her while he laughed behind curtains and through doorways. Finally she had barred him from the library, telling him that his own library was off limits if he didn't stop mistreating the treasures. Not that he couldn't have gotten around her, but it wouldn't have been quite as amusing anymore.

So, he conjured a bookmark, and shut the book over it, leaving her to her sleep.

He refrained from touching her. He knew she would wake, and despite how tempting it was, she needed this rest.

So he left her, just happy he could see that small smile on her face, even when she slept, and knowing that he would see her again in a few short hours. Well, he amended with a grimace, a few very agonizingly long hours.

Until then, he had business to attend to.

~: Mary Margret :~

"The nunnery agreed!" beamed Ashley, Alexandria strapped to her chest as they walked along the sidewalk, Mary Margret's examples of her perfect dress printed out in Ashley's free hand. "They said they'll give you their full support."

"Wow, um," Mary Margret said. It was thankfully almost the evening, and she was torn between thinking about how to go about her spelling test for class tomorrow and what to do for this campaign, which was spinning wildly out of hand. Henry today in class had told the entire class to tell their parents to vote for her as the Spring Queen. Ruby had begun working on a poster. Ashley was coming with her to find a dress. Leroy and company seemed to be all on board to posting and handing out flyers. And now the nuns were going to help.

To Mary Margret, though, it felt very high school-esque. She hadn't run for Prom Queen or Homecoming Queen for this reason- that and she didn't know if she could pull it off. Not that being Spring Queen meant that she had to sit on floats, or anything, but it meant that next year if she won, which she wouldn't, she would have to be in charge of the Spring Queen Charity Ball council, and run the other charity events in town. Not to mention being on the City Council. The task in and of itself sounded terribly time consuming, and she didn't really have that much time to spare… but if it was for charity- she waved it off. She wasn't going to win anyways. Regina would win. She always won. And Mary Margret's name had been drug through the mud recently. A lot of mud.

"Would you quit worrying for a second, Mary Margret, and pay attention to more important things," Ashley demanded, grabbing Mary Margret's shoulder and forcing her to turn, almost bumping her into a window pane. "Like this."

The dress in the window was absolutely perfect. She gasped, pressing her hands to the glass as she stared at it. It had a sweetheart neckline, falling all the way to the ground, cascading a little through the back, ruffles making it either a very eccentric wedding dress or a perfect ball gown.

"Let's go see if it comes in your size," Ashley grinned, peeling Mary Margret away from the glass window and pulling her inside.

~: Belle :~

Why was the time passing by more slowly? She didn't understand it. She swore that ten minutes had gone by at least, but the clock only read four minutes. It was 6:09, and Belle had had a long day of cleaning. She'd finally cleared off most of the shelves, had delegated which shelves were to be fiction, and which were to be nonfiction. Now, after dusting, she had started on the As in the fiction section, and was beginning to figure out how the Dewey decimal system worked for the nonfiction.

The librarian was helpful, and he explained things to her politely when she asked. He did take naps often though, and she couldn't blame him. He was nearly 80.

She did have a problem with the receptionist though. A middle aged, single lady she was vain and liked to shirk work in whatever way she could. She had been hired to help the old librarian out. Instead she made more work. She often took smoking breaks.

Belle, trying to gain her friendship, had joined her the first time the receptionist had said she was going on one of these smoking breaks, wondering what smoking meant. Was she part dragon? The woman had offered her a cigarette, and Belle had thought she looked a little malicious when she lit the end of Belle's odd cylindrical wrapping.

Belle had coughed up a storm with her first puff.

The woman had laughed at her, telling her she was supposed to, "Inhale it, don't eat it!" Belle vowed never to taste another cigarette again, her stomach churning, nauseous. She hadn't been able to eat the lunch she'd packed from home.

She shouldn't judge the receptionist too harshly, but the woman kept leaving, and when she wasn't gone she was on the phone, and then when she wasn't on the phone, she was reading a novel with a cover that made Belle blush every time she saw it, which she left open face down when she wasn't reading it. She didn't like the fact that every time Belle passed by she either said, "That's not where that goes," or, "this is not how we do things around here." How did she know what they did around there, when she obviously did nothing? Leaving books open on their spines – Belle shuddered angrily.

Speaking of books- the book she had picked up earlier to read for a moment until Rumpelstiltskin came for lunch had been closed on the table next to her when she'd awakened, a delicate rose rested between its pages where she'd left off. She couldn't believe she'd missed him. She was furious with herself for falling asleep.

She had taken the rose, and put it in a cup of water, leaving it upstairs on the table.

Another stack of books down, organized. Another opportunity to glance at the clock. She sighed. It was 6:11.

On the upside, only 19 minutes until she got to see him.

"Isabelle?" It was the librarian, putting his jacket on. Belle turned to face him, "I'm closing up a little early today. You can leave if you want to."

Heaven sent! "Yes, thank you!" she beamed, and remembered the rose upstairs. "I'll be right down."

"I'm going to lock the doors behind me, alright?" he told her as she made for the stairs.

"Alright, goodnight!" she called to him.

She smelled the magic before she saw him, like after a thunderstorm, the air still crackling with electricity and the rain having left earth fresh- but there was something more chemical to it, darker, more sinister. Then again, he always had been sinister.

She felt her heart soar when she saw him, both hands on his cane, the low sunlight making his skin golden, watching the smile spread across his face ignited her own smile.

"What're you doing here?" she wanted to know, stepping onto the landing, and resisted the childlike urge to run right into his arms.

"We have a driving lesson, do we not?" he cocked his head to the side.

"Of course, I mean, we do but-." But she hadn't expected to find him here. She'd expected that she would have to hunt him down at his shop, or at his house. But here he was-

"Then let's go," he said, extending his hand to her. She understood immediately what he meant. He was going to take her by magic. She smiled at him, her eyes skeptical. He rolled his eyes, having read her emotion on her face with ease, knowing that she was worried he wouldn't actually take her to a car, but to somewhere else. He gestured forward with his hand again, "C'mon love, we only have forty seven minutes."

The endearment was enough, as he knew, to get her to come with him, wherever they went. She stepped forward, and took his outstretched hand.

The room was gone, and an instant later, they sparked into being before a parked car on an empty road that led to a large, empty parking lot.

"I was worried for a moment that we would end up elsewhere," Belle said, touching the high tech machine with her middle finger.

"I noticed," he raised his eyebrows at her, "Still don't trust me?"

"Not a wit," she told him evenly, and untruthfully. She trusted almost everything about him. "Can I have the keys?"

He dangled them before her momentarily, before dropping them into her cupped hands.

Eagerly she jumped into the car as he walked around the front to the passenger side door.

She knew exactly what to do. She'd watched Emma do it. She stuck the key in the ignition, and turned it as Rumpelstiltskin sat down next to her, setting his cane in the back seat. The car revved to life, music playing as the radio hummed on.

His hand darted around her, and something clicked into place over her, a belt that held her to her seat. She looked over to meet his eyes. "Wouldn't want to cause unnecessary damage," he smiled quickly, kissing her temple before fastening his own belt around himself.

"Alright," she said, feeling the car rumbling underneath her and suddenly feel a little anxious. "What next?"

He took a deep breath, staring out of the windshield. "Gods have mercy."

He then explained the mechanics of driving, the two pedals, the four main gears that she could switch to, the way to use the three mirrors to see behind her. She listened intently, keeping everything he said in mind, as she studied his face, listened the lilt in his voice, the deeper brogue when he was reinforcing a statement. She wouldn't mind listening to him forever.

After twelve minutes though, Belle realized something. "You're stalling."

"What?" he swiveled his head to look at her baffled.

"You're stalling!" she accused.

He made an unconvincingly denying face, "I am not."

"You are so!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"Stalling happens with a stick shift- we're in an automatic-," he tried to start up on it.

"You're doing it again!" she cut him off, and then narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you really that nervous about my driving capabilities?"

"No," he said flatly, "I'm nervous that my magic and technology don't mix well."

Belle grinned determinedly, putting both of her hands on the steering wheel, "Excellent- you won't be able to tamper with the wheel or anything."

"Not excellent. I can't stop something from happening without it being explosive," he countered darkly.

She looked at him, confused, "But you put out all of those lights in town -."

"Yes, but that was merely stopping one route of power," he explained, "With a car it would have to be a lot more complicated."

"Nothing is going to happen," she assured him.

He snorted, "I bought this car for the particular purpose of you driving it."

"Well, won't you be miffed when there isn't a single scratch on it," she told him, holding her head high.

"Belle," he sighed, "these people in Storybrooke have memories on how to operate these vehicles, installed into their brain like they had been watching their parents do it, and then taking lessons. You've not had more than a handful of examples-."

She was tired of excuses. "I'm a fast learner," she said, putting the car in driving gear, and easing off the brake pedal until they were slowly moving into the road. The speed limit was 35. She accelerated slowly until they were moving at 34 down the road. She smiled confidently, staring straight ahead. When Rumpelstiltskin didn't say anything, she glanced over at him.

"Look at the road!" he scolded sharply.

She faced forwards again, both of her hands on the wheel as she looked out of the windshield and on her route towards the empty parking lot. She braked to a stop at the stop sign, where there was a four way intersection.

"How am I doing so far?" she asked as she looked from right, to left, to right again. She saw her road was clear, and continued forward.

"Very well." His voice was tight. He was anxious- she could feel it palpitate through the car. She twisted her mouth, and then realized she was annoyed. She was annoyed at him for not having more faith in her. She had listened, she understood the rules. Why was he still worrying?

"Well, we've made it to the parking lot. Now what?" she wanted to know, accidently letting how irritated she was show.

"We're going to practice turning."

It was a little bit harder to control, turning, but she learned how to turn as the car circled the parking lot, once, twice, before he told her to go in the opposite direction.

With every task he gave her, he became more at ease with her skill. She reversed her way around the parking lot without hitting the lamp posts. She parked, forwards, backwards, parallel. He began to conjure other cars, testing her abilities. They weren't real cars, she learned though. They were images, mirages, he called them, just helping her practice, teaching her to stay on her side of the road, to fear huge semi trucks that came her way. Finally she was confidently driving up and down the short road, pulling u-turns quickly, and heading into the parking lot to park in "narrow" spaces between image cars.

"Alright," he smiled when she looked to him for her next instructions, "Do it backwards, and then we'll be done."

Belle beamed, "Do I pass?"

He smirked at her, "Do it backwards."

"Fine," she smiled, and shifted gears, turning in her seat to look behind her. He turned the volume on the radio to distract her. He'd been doing it periodically.

"_You cast a spell on me, spell on me_," the radio sang at her, the upbeat rhythm fueling her movements instead of disabling her thinking.

She wove through the now image car filled parking lot to find the single parking space left.

"_You hit me like the sky fell on me, fell on me_."

She backed into it swiftly, until she judged she was perfectly in the lines and that she wasn't jutting out in the middle of the road.

"_And I've decided you look well on me, well on me_."

She put the car in park. "Do I pass?" she repeated over the music.

"_So let's go somewhere no one else can see, you and me_."

"You did well," he smirked.

"_Turn the lights out now_."

"I did well?" she rolled her eyes, turning the volume down, completely exasperated at this point, "I totally exceeded expectations! Admit it, you're impressed!"

"No," he said impassively, but something was there, dancing distantly in his eyes.

She could only fume, "Admit it! I passed!"

He cracked a smile at her fury, "You did well," he told her, the dancing finally surfacing, "Very well." He was trying to keep his lips from parting, still trying to hide his impish glee.

And she understood in the moment of silence where the song hummed, "_I'm glad you came, I'm glad you came._"

"You're trying to upset me on purpose!" she gasped, infuriated, wrenching around in her seat to face him more fully, eyes wide in shock, "You weren't worried at all!"

The smile became a full-fledged mocking grin that he wore all too often, "Ah, you caught that."

She was calculating it up in her head, adding fuel to the flames, "The fake stalling, the nervousness, everything! You made it a whole lot harder than it had to be!" she couldn't believe his impudence! He'd done all of that on purpose?

"I was surprised you didn't figure it out earlier," he said airily, before throwing her a pointed look, "If I had been this nervous, I wouldn't have agreed to this in the first place," he tilted his head at her, a familiar chortle trickling from his lips.

She felt her jaw drop, "You're absolutely terrible!" she turned away from him, folding her arms across her chest, tight mouthed and resolute.

"You're right," he nodded, trying to smother a laugh that reached his eyes as he leaned to look into her face, "I'm absolutely terrible."

"I'm not forgiving you," she warned him, keeping herself from smiling.

"Ah, ah," he said, holding up a finger and looking at his watch, "- I'm timing this."

She shook her head in disbelief, her curls bouncing around her face to see him still staring at his watch, timing to see how long it took until she forgave him. "Was the whole part about the technology made up too?" she wondered.

He raised his eyebrows as he peered at her, "Are you forgiving me yet?"

"No," she answered curtly, turning to look out of the windshield again, "I'm just asking a question."

He chuckled, "I'm not lying about the technology. Magic is another form of energy, while technology is normally used with electricity or gasoline. The energy doesn't mix well."

She looked at him through the side of her eyes, "I suppose that makes sense," she kept her traitorous lips under control, making certain that she wouldn't smile. They sat there in silence, while his chuckles waned and waxed by the moment. "What did you do today?" she wanted to know as the scent of magic caught her nose again.

"I was at the shop," he said without inflection.

"No, you did something today. The magic on you smells stronger than normal," she told him. It was almost metallic up close.

"I've merely been setting plans in motion," he stated simply, but the tone of his voice knew he'd sparked curiosity in her. He was waiting for her to ask, but she didn't want to play into his hands. But the curiosity was killing her. What plans? she wanted to know. She hadn't even known he had been planning- but of course he had been planning. He was Rumpelstiltskin.

"What plans?" she finally asked, trying not to sound curious and failing miserably.

He had her pegged, "Have you forgiven me yet?" he wanted to know.

"No."

He sighed as though depressed by the thought, "Then I'm afraid I can't tell you."

She gave an exasperated sigh, letting her arms unfold, "Fine, I forgive you."

"Alas, it's not that simple, my dear," he shook his head. She looked at him disbelievingly, and he cocked his head mischievously, "A kiss to seal the deal?"

She made a face, leaned over and kissed him square on the lips quickly, before pulling away, "Now will you tell me?"

He frowned falsely, as though considering her passionless kiss depressing, "I think true forgiveness requires a better kiss than that. That wasn't even heartfelt."

She smiled at him, rolling her eyes, before unbuckling the seatbelt and sliding closer to him across the car. She took his face in her hands, and closed the distance between them. She felt his eyelids close, and she deepened the kiss, moving more slowly than she could tell he wanted to. He grabbed her, pulling her closer to him, while she moved by his force, wrapped an arm around his head, and began to do what he had done to her yesterday in the library, kissing, probably much less expertly, along his jaw line, but it had the desired effect. She felt him shudder underneath her, and she smiled, pausing. She really was a quick learner.

"How about now?" she whispered in his ear.

"I think that will suffice," his voice quavered.

She sat back, scooting away, and folded her hands promptly in her lap as she stared at him, waiting for an explanation. "Will you tell me?"

He was catching his breath, but his smile turned wicked in a flash, "My my, look at the time." She glanced at the digital clock on the radio that was now humming, "_I want to hold you high and steal your pain_." "It's been exactly forty seven minutes, my dear."

Before she understood, before she could even breathe, he disappeared from before her. She felt herself falling, like she was in a bad dream, and then, without warning, she collapsed abruptly and haphazardly in a booth. A booth at Granny's Diner.

"Rumpelstiltskin, you cheat!" she cursed at him, straightening up, removing her leg from the table. There really was no forgiving him after this.

A few people turned to stare at her, and she ducked her head, standing dizzily.

"Hey, Isabelle, when did you get here?" Ruby wanted to know, bustling out from behind the counter, "Hurry up and get in uniform! We've got another meeting tonight, and people will be hungry."

Belle glowered at the ceiling, "Right."

**A/N: Not my favorite chapter, I'll be honest. However, I did like Henry. I always love Henry. He's freakin' cute. And oh my gosh, **_**why**_** did I not add Ruby sooner! She is SO much fun to write. **

**I added I'm Glad You Came for one reason. Have you all seen this? - **.com/watch?v=0dGoRk9pktw **It's basically one of my favorite Rumbelle music videos. I also REALLY like this one - **.com/watch?v=VO9vcaBIhM4&feature=related

**Anyways, let me know what you think. **


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: You guys really are too kind! AND there are almost 500 reviews. 500! You guys! XD You are too much! **

Chapter 25

~: Belle :~

He was hiding something from her.

She slowly gathered books with author's names that started with BEs in her arms. It was early. The library had barely opened 10 minutes ago, and she was tired, so tired again, her brain was beginning to function properly finally on this exhausting Thursday morning. But she had promised last night that she would help Mary Margret's cause during her lunch break, so she wouldn't be sleeping through it this time. It also meant that she wouldn't see Rumpelstiltskin either.

He hid a lot of things from her, but, he was hiding something big from her. Setting plans in motion? What did it mean?

She walked across the library slowly, heading towards the fiction section.

Why did it hurt, was the real question? Just because she was his true love did not mean the infamous Rumpelstiltskin was going to tell her everything. She shouldn't be so worried about it, she shouldn't let it hurt her so much. She wished- no. She had to stop wishing so much. He could feel her wishes…

Why didn't she want to share her wishes with him? She always had shared her wishes with him. Was it because he wasn't sharing with her?

She placed the books on the shelves rhythmically, trying to keep herself from dwelling. She was just so tired, and she didn't understand. She kept nothing from him. She told him everything he wanted to know.

But love was layered. She'd said so herself. He was layered. She loved that about him. If he wasn't layered, she wouldn't care for him the way she did. She made a rueful face. She was acting like a child, withholding wishes from him.

Let him have his secrets. She could discover them if she _wished_.

_I wish to know what you're planning, Rumpelstiltskin_, she smiled up at the ceiling. _And I wish that this wish will come true._

She could feel his smile watching her, and, picked up her pace. She had a lot to do today.

~: David :~

The door opened to the animal shelter. He looked up from what he was doing at the receptionist's desk, paste still dripping from his hands, to find Henry escorting Belle through the door. He smiled.

"Hey, you guys here to help?" David asked cheerfully. And did he need help. This whole project was completely wasted on him.

"Help with what?" Henry asked curiously, walking up to the desk to peer at whatever he was doing.

"Well, I'm helping put together hand outs for Mary Margret's election," he motioned to the colorful paper stacks before him, with suckers attached to them. Ruby's words echoed in his head, "_Our sneak attack for the kids at school to impress their moms. They get sugar, their parents get propaganda. Everyone wins_!" "Didn't Ruby send you?"

"No actually," Belle said, smiling guiltily as she admired his handiwork, "Um, we came because we wanted your tool box."

"Oh, ok," David was a little disappointed. He'd hoped for a little help with this, but he could definitely get them his toolbox, "It's in the back of my truck, just across the street."

"Thank you David!" Belle beamed.

"Hey David, we can come help you later," Henry said, looking up at him with dark brown eyes, "Or I can at least. Belle has to work." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at her, and she smiled apologetically. That girl smiled too much.

"I'd like that Kid," he grinned at Henry.

Henry raised his eyebrows, "You called me Kid."

"Yeah, Emma calls you Kid," David shrugged, and then wondered, "Is that bad?"

"No, it's awesome!" Henry exclaimed with a broad grin, and then looked back at Belle, who was leaning against the exit. "See you David!"

"See ya, Kid," he watched them leave. There was something he really liked about Henry. If he ever had a son he'd want him to be like Henry.

~: Henry :~

"Why-," _Whack._ "Isn't this-." _Whack!_ "Working?" _WHACK!_

The hammer fell from his hands, and immediately Belle was there looking to see if there was even a scratch in the wood. There wasn't. She leaned against the impenetrable door of woe, and sighed to the ceiling, "I don't know."

"Magic?" Henry said.

"Definitely," Belle agreed, and Henry exhaled in frustration. They'd been trying to pry open the door for about thirty minutes. They'd started off trying to pick the lock, which Belle was surprisingly good at. "_I tried to escape various times. You learn a few things_." Then they had tried to lever it open after the lock clicked open and it still wouldn't budge. They took out the hinge pins. It was obviously glued shut to the frame. Finally, when the pry bar hadn't worked, Belle had said "I'll buy them a new door-," and began to smash it with the hammer. That hadn't worked either. There wasn't even a scratch on the door when she'd gotten through with it, so Henry had demanded a turn. Nothing worked. The door was magic. "I have to be at the diner in 12 minutes. We'd better clean this mess up."

"Ok," Henry sighed, stooping to pick up the tools they'd used- well, misused in the hammer's case. Belle did the same, looking defeated, and yet, intrigued- exactly like he felt, though he had to ask. "And he won't-?"

"No," Belle said frankly.

"Are you sure?" Henry wanted to know.

She smiled a little, putting the last tool in the box, "I'm positive."

"I wonder why he won't help us," Henry said lightly, standing up and dusting his jeans off.

"He does what he wants," Belle said while lifting the heavy toolbox off the ground, and Henry wondered why she sounded a little sad. He didn't ask though.

Henry didn't know if that was true or not. He knew that Rumpelstiltskin would do anything for her. Anything, so it surprised him that he wasn't telling her what was going on. But maybe- maybe he couldn't tell her. "Do you think it's because it's his curse, and telling us is kind of like- I don't know, cheating?"

"Cheating?" Belle wondered, hefting the box higher.

"Yeah- so if he told us how to break the curse, it wouldn't work?" Henry thought out loud.

Belle perked up at that, "That- makes sense. But do you really think the clock tower has something to do with this?"

Henry bobbed his head, "Yup. Don't you?" He grinned.

"After all of this- yes," She matched his expression conspiratorially as they walked down the stairs together. "Are you sure you can carry this back to the animal shelter?" she held the clattering box a little higher.

"Yep! I'm gonna go hang out with my grandpa!" he said excitedly as they reached the entrance to the library. He took the box from her in both arms, and man was it heavy.

"You have fun, alright?" she told him as she held open the door for him to go.

"I will!" he yelled over his shoulder as he walked along the street, and almost fell over off the curb.

"Be careful!" she called after him.

She was starting to sound like Emma, and Regina _and_ Miss Blanchard- didn't he already have a few too many mothers?

~: Archie :~

There was a knock at his door. It could only be one person. Who else would schedule an appointment this early in the morning? She had been good about scheduling, but she was working two jobs now.

"Come in!" he called, looking over his file for her as she entered timidly. She always entered timidly. His room was rather small, and the blinds were often closed. He'd already determined that she was afraid of enclosed spaces, though she put on a tough face for it.

"Good morning," he greeted her with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

"Good morning Archie," her smile was kind as she sat in a chair.

"How are you feeling?" he wondered, though from the dark circles under her eyes she looked exhausted.

"I'm good. A little tired," she confessed.

"It is seven thirty in the morning," he smiled, "I know you have work at the library around eight, so we'll keep this session short, alright?"

"Thanks," she looked up at him. "For getting up this early. It's really kind of you."

He shrugged that off, "How are things at home with your dad?"

"They're great," her face was joyous in an instant, "He's at work, and I'm at work, so we really haven't seen each other much this week," the last part he heard a twinge of sadness.

"How do you feel about that?" he wanted to know.

She looked up at him, her eyes amused, "You ask that question a lot."

"It's a standard issue question," he agreed, and then continued, "Well, how do you feel about it?"

"I miss him," she nodded, looking away from him again, into her hands, "It's hard, but I did live without him for so long, it's different, coming back to live with him."

He wondered if she didn't like moving back in with him, "Do you feel stuck there?"

"No, not at all," she grinned. Her grins were so easy, it was startling, especially from someone who should be depressed, dark with doubt. She had spent several long years isolated in what was basically a prison. Of course, the drugs would pass the time, make it harder to count, but still. She was so bright still. He wondered how she kept it, how she kept her light. "I really enjoy living with my father," she continued, "He's so happy to have me back."

"I can imagine," Archie tilted his head, before moving on to the next question, "Is he pressuring you, into these jobs so soon?"

She didn't like his line of questioning today, he could sense it as she answered the question, "No, no, I just enjoy working."

"You look a little exhausted," he pointed out.

She bobbed her head, "It was a lot harder than I expected, but we need the money. Everything in this world revolves around money."

"In this world?" he questioned.

"Just a figure of speech," she assured him.

"So have you remembered anything at all?" he wanted to know.

"No, not exactly," but he could tell she was lying.

He pressed further, "Explain what you mean by not exactly."

Her gaze flickered, "I have memories – um." And then he saw her look up at him with a spark, "Memories of this life that I didn't live, of things that I know didn't happen. It's confusing."

That was something odd. "Memories of a life you didn't live?" he repeated. For some reason they hit home more than they should have. _Memories of a life he hadn't lived_… he knew it meant something- he shook it off.

"Yes," and she was smiling, as though she had recognized that he understood- no but he hadn't understood, "like someone planted them in my head. Do you know what I mean?"

"Actually…" he did. He knew- he felt one of his migraines coming on. He pressed his hand to his head, covering an eye as the pain began to swell. "Isabelle, I'm sorry, but I think I've come down with something," he half smiled at her, removing his glasses, "Do you mind if we post pone-?"

"No, of course not-," she sounded so concerned as she stood up, as though to get a better look at him, "is there anything I can get you?"

"No, no, I just, need some medicine. I'll call you to reschedule," he promised, motioning to the door as he scrambled through his desk drawers looking for the prescription Dr. Whale gave him for his headaches.

"Alright…," she obviously wasn't comfortable leaving him in pain, but she went to the door. "Archie?" she paused, and he looked up, "Remember."

"Remember what?" he asked, feeling his mind begin to split. He tried not to sound too harsh, but he was afraid it didn't come out that way.

She looked away, "I know it's painful, especially to do it on your own," she gave him a sympathetic look, and then a confident one. "But remember."

He watched her slip through the door, shook his head after her, before she popped back in, "Oh- or maybe drink caffeine!"

"Caffeine?"

"It helped me a bit," she smiled at him again, before shutting the door behind her.

Maybe he had been a little quick to sign her off as not insane, he thought in jest, before finally finding his pills. He took two of them, and swallowed. He read the label as he waited for the pain to start to subside, which might've been hours from then.

Do not consume with caffeine.

~: Emma :~

Passing out flyers was tedious, especially two days in a row and during a Friday afternoon, but at least they all took them. She was pretty sure it was because it had something to do with her being Sheriff, or maybe it was her scowl when she told them to take the flyer. Whatever it was, she used it to her advantage.

Isabelle was next to her, handing out flyers more cheerfully. Isabelle was the one source of positive in this mess. She only had thirty more minutes until her lunch break was over, but heck, it was better than nothing. It meant that was thirty more minutes to stay away from Ruby, who had turned the diner into an all out campaign office and was demanding her people to be present when they were available.

There was a lull in the passing crowds, well, if you could say that Storybrooke had crowds, and Isabelle handed Emma a drink.

"Thanks," she muttered before taking a swallow. They stood there like that for a while, watching a couple cars go by. All Emma could be thankful for was that one, Isabelle was not as chatty as Ashley or Ruby, and two, that her cop car was parked just in front of her, so if she saw Ruby or Ashley run up, she could explain that someone at the station needed her help. For now, though, she thought she should probably talk to Isabelle. She started up on a topic offhand, "So, Isabelle, how are your meetings with Archie going?"

"They're good. Nothing too exciting to report, Sheriff," she smiled teasingly, and then continued in a more gentle tone of voice, "Archie is a nice man. He seems to want to do everything good- he just doesn't have enough time."

"That's true," Emma nodded, and then blinked, cup half way to her mouth before she rotated around to face Isabelle again, "Do you –?" she stopped herself. What was she thinking?

"Do I what?" Isabelle cocked her head, looking confused.

"Do you – I don't know do you like him, or whatever?" Emma shook her head, wondering why on earth she was asking that. This was none of her business.

"Like Archie? Yes, he's a nice man. I think anyone would like him if they got to know him," Isabelle nodded serenely.

Emma rolled her eyes, "No no, I mean, like _like_ him." Did she, Emma Swan, just say that out loud? She sounded like an eighth grade girl! She'd never sounded like an eighth grade girl, even in eighth grade! Ruby and Ashley were going to her head.

Isabelle still looked uncertain, "Um, I'm not sure that I follow."

"You know," Emma said, tilting her head back and forth, trying to find a way to explain, "Do you think that you could, I don't know date or whatever?"

"Date?"

Was Isabelle playing innocent, or did she really not know? "Ugh, do you like the man or don't you?" Emma said, annoyed. She hated it when people beat around the bush.

"Yes, I've already said-," she was sounding frustrated now too.

"No," Emma cut her off, slicing the air with her free hand, "as more than a friend?"

"Doctor Archie Hopper?" Isabelle's eyebrows shot up, and she looked surprised at the mere suggestion, "No, I don't love him, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh…," Emma took another gulp of her drink, "do you think you could love him, then?"

"No, not in that way that you're meaning," Isabelle shook her head, ducking away with a small smile across her face.

"Right," Emma swallowed the rest of her drink, feeling thoroughly childish, "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"No, no, it's fine," Isabelle grinned broadly, withholding a laugh that threatened to burst.

"What's so funny?" Emma demanded. It hadn't been that ridiculous to guess. She thought it was possible, and as long as she was over whatever she had done with Mr. Gold…

"Nothing, nothing," she said, with an amused look at the sky.

Mr. Gold. He hadn't been anywhere near Isabelle, or so she thought. She wondered if Isabelle had remembered by now, if Archie's therapy was working at all. Four times a week seemed kinda steep to her still, but if it got the truth out. So, she decided to ask another question, "So, did you remember how you know Mr. Gold yet?"

"Oh! That," Isabelle looked away, rather obviously, "Um, no, no I didn't."

Even if Emma couldn't tell a liar from an honest person, she would have been able to detect Isabelle's inability to lie from a mile off, "You're lying," Emma stated dryly, leaning against the cop car and folding one of her arms, the other still holding the cup.

"Yes I am," Isabelle sighed, sitting on the hood of the car.

"How much of your memory did you get back?" Emma asked her, a little annoyed that Isabelle had lied to her, but at least she had been honest about it when she pressed further.

"All of it," she admitted, and Emma blinked in surprise. All of it? Then how come she was still asking questions about how things worked? "And I didn't even have to start drinking caffeine!" Isabelle brightened, looking to Emma, "That's what triggered remembering at first you know - At least, that's what I think it was, because caffeine is supposed to stimulate your brain, or boost your energy levels… I can't remember which, I read too much too quickly, does that ever happen to you?" she wondered, peering at Emma.

Emma had had no idea that the girl could babble. She was obviously trying to do so, though. She was trying to get Emma sidetracked. Emma didn't know what caffeine had to do with memory gain, but she wasn't about to be led astray. She fixed on Isabelle's gaze, "And when were you going to tell me?"

"The minute that I thought that you would believe me," Isabelle said without missing a beat.

Emma frowned, "And when is that?" she pressed.

Isabelle shrugged delicately, "But I promise to tell you then."

"Are you still mad?" Emma wanted to know.

Isabelle tilted her head, puzzled, "Mad about what?"

Emma grimaced, "About- about what I told you about? You know, like a week ago was it now?" Had it really been a weak? It felt like ages.

"About- my father?" Isabelle finished, looking downcast, gathering her hair on one side of her head, "No, I'm not angry. I don't hold grudges- well, that's a lie. I hold one grudge, and I'm sure I'll never get over it." Her eyes were darker than Emma had ever seen them. She must have still been angry at Mr. Gold. If the girl could only hold one grudge, then that was a perfect one to hold. He had beat up her father and strung her along.

"Good," Emma stated her approval.

Isabelle looked surprised, "That's good?"

"Sure, it's healthy," Emma shrugged, putting the empty cup on the top of the car, "He did beat up your dad after all."

Isabelle looked shocked, "I don't hold a grudge against-."

"Hey Emma!" the cry stopped Isabelle short.

Oh heaven please have mercy, it was Ruby.

Emma put on a calm face, and said, "What's up?"

"We need help with a permit for hanging the poster," Ruby looked upset.

"What poster?" Emma had no clue what Ruby was talking about.

Ruby screwed up her red mouth, annoyed, "Well, we were hanging it, and then Regina rolled around, and said that that wasn't permitted-."

Emma cut her off, "Wait, so Regina knows?"

"Yup," Ruby nodded slowly, her face a mixture of annoyed anxiety.

Emma threw her head backwards, "Regina knows," and then Emma started swearing profusely under her breath, stalking away from the car. She needed to walk it off. Isabelle slid off the car to follow, but Ruby shook her head, following Emma herself as she continued her cussing. Regina would be so friggin' pissed when she got a hold of Mary Margret.

"Hey, not around my kids," said Michael Tillman, herding his two children Ava and Nicholas away from Emma, who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"They should be in school anyways," Emma reminded him, turning back to scowl at the garage man.

Michael seemed to be in a bad mood today too, "I'm taking them out for ice cream. Sue me," he called over his shoulder.

She shook her head after him, watching Isabelle hand one of the children a flyer.

"So, about that permit-," Ruby reminded her.

"Dad that's her! That's the lady you told us to watch out for!" It was Nicholas, yelling, catching Emma's attention.

"What-?" Ruby half said, looking around.

Emma turned just in time to see Michael Tillman punch Isabelle, who had been trying to calm down a pointing Nicholas, in the face hard enough to knock her to the ground. Ruby screamed as flyers flew everywhere.

Emma flew at the garage mechanic, had him pinned to the ground before the paper could settle. "You shut your mouth!" Emma shouted at him, her vision still red. "You're _under_ arrest, and you have the _right_ to remain silent or I _will_ use your words against you in the court of law!" He picked the wrong day to mess with one of her friends.

"But she's that kidnapper that was in the paper-," Michael tried to defend himself.

"She is not a kidnapper, and she never was!" Emma yelled over his complaining, dragging him to his feet.

"She was going to take Nicholas!" he bellowed.

She slammed him into the side of the cop car so hard the car rattled. "You shut your mouth, Mr. Tillman, or I'll shut it for you," her voice was dangerously thin.

"Dad- Emma please don't!" Ava cried from behind them.

"He didn't mean it!" Nicholas protested, moving into her line of sight. "Don't separate us again!"

"Please!" Ava added, her tone begging.

Ah the kids. "Your dad just hit my friend, Ava. I'm going to take him to jail now, and you and Nicholas can stay with me for the night." Well they needed to learn that hitting wasn't the answer. What a better way to teach them than to lock their father away for pointlessly hitting a defenseless girl. She opened the door to the back seat, a hand still on Michael's collar.

"But he was just trying to protect us-," Ava disputed, tears in her eyes.

"Well he should have thought of that before hitting Isabelle," Emma said, shoving Mr. Tillman roughly into the car.

"I'll be back by tonight," he promised.

_Fat chance_. She slammed the door after him. She turned back to see Ruby tending to Isabelle, who was getting to her feet.

"You ok?" Emma commanded Isabelle's attention.

"I'm fine," Isabelle smiled, and there was blood on her teeth.

She felt like punching Michael Tillman herself.

She inhaled deeply, her hands fists, "I'm taking him down to the station. Ruby will you get her to the hospital?"

Ruby nodded, "Sure-."

"Wait!" Isabelle said, stumbling forward, out of Ruby's grasp. "Wait- I don't press charges."

"What?" snapped Emma, turning to glare at her.

Isabelle's gaze was steady. Already Emma could see swelling on her cheekbone. "I said I don't press any charges."

Emma stepped closer, seething, "Isabelle, do you even know what that means?"

"Of course I do- it means he gets to go free," she went to open the door to let Michael Tillman out.

Emma shut it again forcefully. "He's going down to the station."

"But what about his children?" Isabelle wanted to know, gesturing to them.

He should have thought about his children _before_ punching random strangers, "They'll be fine," she said curtly.

"Emma, please- let him go," Isabelle said earnestly.

"Oh please don't tell me you're one of those turn-the-other-cheek girls. I really hated those religious people," Emma groaned in growing annoyance, jutting her jaw forward.

Isabelle's eyes narrowed, "I'm not religious. I just don't want him to go to jail," she sounded argumentative, the first time Emma had seen her that way.

"He committed an offense. I have to go get his prints, and mark him down as a criminal," Emma said truthfully, jabbing her finger at the glass where Michael was.

"Emma, I drop the charges," Isabelle repeated, "Please don't take him in. He was just looking out for his kids. I've been in the media. People think I'm a kidnapper- please, let him go. It's not his fault."

"It's _entirely_ his fault!" she shouted, feeling her argument waning.

"Let him go, Emma, let him go," she told her, her voice gentle, a bit of blood seeping out of her cut lip.

"You have got to be friggin' kidding me," Emma snarled, opening the door, and pulling the man out of the car and flipping him around. She undid the cuffs, and shoved him away from her. She'd made friends with one of the freaks that didn't believe in justice but in world peace. What was her life coming to?

"Thank you Emma!" Ava exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her dad in glee.

Nicholas joined in, "Thank you Emma!"

"Don't thank me," Emma spat, "Thank her." She pointed at Isabelle, who stood firm, tall, straight. World peace Emma's- she exhaled slowly, "I'm taking a drive." She stalked around the cop car, leaving Isabelle to Ruby's care, and looked up the road as she made to get in the car.

What was Mr. Gold doing there, across the street? People had stopped to see what had happened, but were beginning to disperse. Why was he still there, looking on, looking murderous? He was such a creep. He'd better not step a foot near Isabelle. The poor girl didn't need any more harassment.

He spotted Emma watching him, and with a click of his cane, he was walking away towards his shop.

"Creep," she murmured, getting into her car gracelessly and turned on the car with a rev.

~: Belle :~

She watched Emma drive away, and felt herself dizzying. Her head spun.

"Careful, there," Ruby said cautiously, propping her up.

"I'm fine," Belle assured her with a smile, steadying her knees so that they wouldn't wobble. She looked across the street. Where had he gone? He'd been there a moment ago. She needed him right now- and behind her she felt his ghost hands on her back. He would be there to hold her up, the hands told her.

"Um," the man was stepping up to her, and she couldn't help but flinch. The invisible hands gripped her shoulders, and she stumbled away from him. "No- oh, I'm sorry- no." He put his hands up, his eyes ashamed, "I just wanted to apologize. For-."

Belle shook her head, but Ruby stepped forward, venom laced in her voice, "Mr. Tillman, you -."

"No, - um," Belle stopped Ruby, putting a hand on her arm, and looked at the man, "Mr. Tillman, it's alright."

"I-," he was looking for words in his empty hands, "hit you- You should have-."

Belle smiled, "You were just protecting your children. I, understand."

"You shouldn't have to- I am truly sorry-," he hung his head, letting his hands drop.

She grasped one of his hands, the contact making him look up. He stared into her eyes, and she tried to tell him fervently that she was fine, "I promise it's alright." She let go of his hand.

He looked away, before hanging his head, "Thank you."

"Yes!" the little girl leapt forward, and hugged Belle around the middle, "Thank you!"

The little boy followed his sister's example, holding onto her, burying his head there, "You saved our dad-."

"I-," Belle looked up to their dad, and he looked just as surprised as she felt.

"Thank you!" they chorused, looking up at her, the boy with tears in his eyes.

She could only stare at them with affection, understanding why a father would go to such lengths to protect them. They were absolutely darling. She hugged them back, and smiled.

"We- should get going now-," Mr. Tillman coughed to get the kids' attention. They looked back at him, and then let go of Belle, the boy the last, and she ruffled his hair before he went to join his sister's side. Mr. Tillman seemed hesitant, "But- um, what's your name?"

"It's Isabelle," she said simply, "Isabelle French."

Mr. Tillman nodded, "-Isabelle- thank you, for, not pressing charges…" his sentence trailed off.

"Do you want to come get ice cream with us?" the boy asked excitedly.

"Maybe some other time," she smiled encouragingly at him. She didn't really know where to get ice cream, but she assumed it was at a store.

Mr. Tillman looked at her pointedly, "It would be the least I could do."

"Well, I've never had ice cream before," Belle smiled apologetically, shrugging. The ghost hands were at her back again, tickling along her neck, coaxing her.

"What?" the boy was shocked.

"You have to come with us," the girl said.

"But- I," Belle looked back to Ruby for help.

Ruby, who had been standing on the sidelines with a sassy look on her face, said, "I think a punch in the face equivocates something along the lines of an ice cream cone," her voice dripping with dislike and sarcasm, "Or like 100 ice cream cones."

Belle bit her lip, "_Ruby_-." She gestured to the flyers.

Ruby shook her head, "Don't worry-," Ruby shrugged, "other people can hand out flyers," she stooped to pick up the scattered flyers, "Oh! Get some ice on that." She pointed to Belle's face as the boy's hand took hers, shortly followed by the girl's.

"Ice?" she asked Ruby over her shoulder as both children led her away down the street.

"I'm Ava," said the girl.

"And I'm Nicholas!" the boy piped up.

Belle couldn't help but smile as they walked down the street, "It's nice to meet you Ava and Nicholas."

~: Regina :~

That pathetic _little_ ghost of a girl was running against her for Spring Queen?

Did she have _any_ idea what she was doing?

Regina stormed into her house, slamming the door behind her, hearing the window panes rattle. She pivoted around, nostrils flaring at the banner that they had been posting in the middle of town, Mary Margret Blanchard for Spring Queen. It was happening all over again. Snow White was going to be the fairest of them all once more. She shrieked her wordless outrage.

_No_, she fumed. _Not here, not this time_.

She'd made Snow White nothing, nothing in this world, but a timid school teacher who was too afraid to even have a proper affair with her true love because she was worried about what others thought, and here she was, contending for her crown? She couldn't even remember her own true name.

It was supposed to be Regina's happy ending, her winning everything she wanted to win without question or problem. Ever since Emma had showed up- _Emma_.

Her eyes narrowed.

Emma was the real problem. Emma was ruining everything, _everything_ she had built, had created. It was all toppling down on her bit by bit, Emma the one commanding the onslaught against her prefect place she'd worked so hard to form, to make sure that she was not the only one who was left empty inside. Emma was giving them hope. Emma could take her precious hope and – but no.

She couldn't take Emma down on her own. She needed something, something good. She needed help, from a person who was not likely to give her any help at this point, she remembered, clenching her hands into fists until her nails dug into her skin. This was where her once perfect bargaining chip would have come into place. And now? Now she was off limits. What she needed was clear. She just didn't know how to get him.

She needed Rumpelstiltskin.

**A/N: ACK! And the plot thickens! Regina is really scary! **

**And I'm absolutely loving the music videos that y'all are sending- OH! And about the links, type in www . youtube (minus the spaces) and then copy the spliced links at the bottom and paste 'em in after the youtube bit. Anyways, cheers you lot, and I hope you have a lovely day! **


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: There weren't as many reviews last time- and I know that was because everyone was mad that Rumple didn't step up to the plate… but, he is Rumple! Just you wait and read! **

**And she did have to get hit, or, well, – ack, well, you'll see in upcoming chapters! It'll all make sense, I promise! **

Chapter 26

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He was waiting for her on the second story. Impatient. Livid.

The only reason he hadn't gone after that woodcutter was because Belle would have hated him for it. And that. Was the _only_ reason.

He'd been distracted. Somebody irrelevant had been in the pawnshop looking for trinkets. He'd been kind enough to answer questions. He saw what happened too late. He had disappeared in the back room, where his office was, and had appeared in an alley across the street. Emma was already throwing the pathetic man onto the ground when he'd arrived. Belle had recognized him there immediately, had wished for him to- to stop before he did something irrational. He hadn't cared about rationality at that particular moment, had wanted to let this man know that he deserved to have his innards mangled and strewn about the street for his precious children to see. But then Belle-

Belle had stood up for the woodcutter. The idiot woodcutter who should have thought about the fact that Belle was tiny, incapable of harming anyone with violence, should have at least thought about the Sheriff's presence- she had only been five feet away, before hitting an innocent girl, who then turned around and had stood up for him, for his freedom and his children.

He'd watched from the sidelines, and she watched him watch, understanding after clearing his head that he couldn't step in without angering her Majesty. He had been a coward not to step in. He'd already broken the deal, the first deal he'd broken, so why not just let the world know? Why not just let her Majesty in on the secret and have her try and fight him? She would lose. She'd always been the weaker one of the both of them.

But now there was Belle, and all the strings that attached to her happiness, all the pieces that connected to her- Moe, Henry, Emma, Mary Margret, David, Archie, Ruby, Ashley, the old librarian, and everyone else that seemed to be flocking to her. He had to protect them all now, to ensure her happiness. It was maddening to think about. He couldn't watch over all these sheep, he'd only wanted one. Served him right for being a wolf willing to protect that sheep from other predators.

And things had been arranged. Plans had been set into place. He was going to execute them accordingly, and her Majesty couldn't know about him, or his magical ability, before this happened.

Rumpelstiltskin paused- felt Belle wish that it was 6:30 already, and smiled slightly as the thread attached to him. Her threads were thick, a rope now, a connection that let him know where she was, even when he wasn't paying too close of attention to her.

He wanted it to be 6:30 already as well. It was 6:24, and he had something to give her. He'd packaged it for effect. He always had liked effect. It was his element.

"Isabelle," the sound of her name from the foot of the stairs caught his attention, "you can go, if you want- you've done a lot of work today." It was the old librarian. May the gods sing his name through their halls, he was letting her off early.

"Thank you!" Rumpelstiltskin could hear in her voice that she was delighted. He smiled at that, "I left something upstairs."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow!" he heard the first of a few footsteps on the stairs, "And Isabelle?" the footsteps paused, "You've been such a tremendous help around here. You're the best worker I think I've ever had."

"You don't have to say that-."

"Of course I don't. I'm 79, I can say what I like," the old man was teasing her. She was fun to tease. He knew that more than anyone, "You have a good night."

"You too!" he heard the smile in her voice.

The staircase revealed her head first, and he had to stop himself as his heart clenched. The bruise covered almost an entire side of her face. He could see where her lip had been split, how the man's fist had scathed along her cheekbone and made contact with her nose. He struggled to breath evenly, to keep his composure. He hadn't been able to see the damage from a distance, hadn't had a good angle on it since it happened while he had been watching her.

"You're here," her voice was euphoric, catching his attention.

"You sound surprised," he forced a smile for her, trying to play the part for her, "Let me remind you, my dear, I can be wherever I want to be." He snapped his fingers and he was behind her in an instant, "Whenever I want to be there."

She turned to smile at him, and her bruised face up close made him lock down. His teeth gritted together, jaw rigid as he closed his eyes as though that would make it better, as though that had _ever_ made _anything_ better. He couldn't heal her. He had never had powers to heal and he'd never hated it more than he did at this moment.

"I'm sorry." Her voice cut across his thoughts, and she was touching his face, stroking his hair away from his forehead.

"Why are _you_ sorry?" he demanded through a locked jaw, his eyes still shut.

"That you're angry," her voice was mournful. She had no reason to mourn. Hers was the face that had been damaged. Shouldn't she at least be angry?

"What did you expect?" he wanted to know. What else could he possibly be? Besides guilty, for not stepping in, besides ashamed for being unable to act.

Her hand caressed his face, "I'm glad you let it go."

His eyes flashed open to find hers, "Who says I have?" His brows furrowed in anger. He hadn't let it go. The man should be dead, should be hung in the streets for hitting her.

She raised her eyebrows at him, "You haven't dragged him off to the woods to beat him up, have you?" She was trying to amuse him. He let himself go along with it.

"Not yet," he admitted wickedly. It actually wasn't that bad of an idea.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" she retracted her hand, and attempted to look furious, but it ended up looking more wry then angry.

He took her into his arms, "Yes, my dearest, loveliest Belle?"

"You're incorrigible," she declared, trying very hard to sound irate.

He tilted his head at her, amused, "You've become very fond of name calling as of late."

"I could say the same thing," she tilted her head also, leaning forward, "And thank you."

"What for?" he wanted to know, feeling her breath on his skin.

"You didn't- you let me handle it by myself," she said, looking away.

"It was your wish," he reminded her, his aggression returning.

She sensed the spike, and bent her head, her nose against his chest, "Yes- and you…"

"We can't risk her finding out. Not yet, at least," he explained, his voice sober, his mind going over his plan. Not until the opportune moment.

Belle was intrigued, of course, "Not yet? Is that what you've been "setting in motion"?" she asked, eyes eager. But she saw, she knew, that he wasn't going to tell her. He couldn't tell her. The smile fell from her eyes, even though she put on a good face. "So you're really not going to tell me what's behind that door?"

"No," he said simply.

She half smiled at that, "Because it would be cheating?"

"Something along those lines," he agreed, his words full of dismay at not telling her. Behind the door was something he could tell her. But… how could he even now not let her in? On this? She wouldn't -

She had moved on though, "I never would have thought of it like that. He's smart," she said, looking over at the door, where just yesterday she and Henry had attempted to break it down.

He tried to cheer her up, "So are you, my dear." He remembered why he had come, besides the fact that she had wished it. That was certain to bring her smile back, if nothing else, "I have something to show you," he told her.

"Show me?" she was intrigued again, that spark in her eye. He felt himself smile at that.

"It's less of a show, more of a-." He pulled the package from a pocket dimension, similar to the one where he now stored his dagger, except for the location of his dagger was permanent, sealed away and then some. No one was getting at it unless he wanted them to.

"What is this?" she wanted to know as he placed the package in her hands.

"The whole point if for you to open it," he told her, entertained by her enthrallment of the big white box.

She gave him a glance of true sarcasm, before delicately opening the large parcel, pulling the lid from the box. She gasped as she pulled the golden fabric from it, letting the yards of it fall from her hands as she held up the beautiful material. She was speechless, staring from the very familiar article of clothing, to him, and back again. He felt a smile slipping across his face at her utter amazement. "It's – it's my dress. But how-?"

"I kept it, of course," he told her as she looked up at him for explanation.

She put the box down to hold it out in front of her, "I left it, I didn't want anything… I just… ran." Her voice was full of regret, and reminisce.

He didn't want her to associate this dress with bad memories, not when it had only brought good memories back to the surface for him. He had cherished it, less so than the cup of course, but he had kept it because it was hers, "Well this dress never was conducive to much other than looking pretty in," he reminded her dryly.

"That is the truth," she agreed with a quirk at her mouth.

He felt himself chuckling, "I vividly remember you trying to clamber around in it."

"Yes," Belle shook her head at the thing, and flipped it around to pull it against her, "I eventually tried pinning it."

"You did look ridiculous," he recalled, his smile mocking.

"Oh thank you," she said to him, backing away from him and held it out again to examine it more closely, "I'm pretty sure that if I hadn't asked for fabric to make a new dress, you would have let me walk around in it forever."

He nodded, "Quite possibly."

She shook her head at him with a knowing smile, and then commented as she finished her examination, "All the stains are gone though."

He had taken the stains out of it, when he had recovered it from her room. It had been hard, taking the stains out yet preserving the smell, but, it had been worth it. Her scent was still preserved in fact- smelling of sunlight, and sweet flowers, and that tinge of paper, of her precious books she buried herself in. "Yes. I took the liberty of cleaning it," he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Thank you," she told him, and her relit smile meant everything to him. He drank her in as she pressed the dress to her again, and it was as though they had never left Dark Castle. Except that she was wearing a cardigan, and her flats poked out. She turned to him, using one hand to sway with the dress, as though she were dancing, "I assume I'm wearing this to the ball?"

He had almost forgotten, "Ah ah, we need to discuss the subject of payment."

She stepped forward to kiss him, but he leaned away.

"I don't want that, dearest. I want something else," he smiled at her puzzled look.

"What?" she wondered.

"I want the tea cup."

"What?" the tone was entirely different- she was taken aback.

"I want the tea cup," he repeated firmly.

She cocked her head, staring at him through narrowed eyes, "Yes, but-?"

"I think it's a fair trade," he interrupted.

"I don't," she said defensively.

"So you don't want the dress?" he was surprised.

"No," she folded it over her arm, "not if it means you get the cup."

"I would have considered it a fair trade," he reiterated, stepping forward.

She looked up at him with confidence in her decision, "But I don't."

"Why do you want it so?" he asked.

"Because you kept it all this time," she said, her voice full of fondness.

Miffed about how this was trade was turning out, he said a little bitterly, "Yes, along with my empty heart."

That hurt her, he could tell. He shouldn't have said it. She stepped up to him anyways, handing him the dress, "I don't think it's quite so empty anymore."

He sighed, and placed it back in her hands. He could deny her nothing. "Fine," he declared dramatically, "if you won't give me the cup I suppose I'll settle for a kiss."

She smiled at that, and then leaned up to kiss him sweetly.

"Why do you want it so much?" she asked, pulling away ever so slightly, so their noses touched.

"No particular reason," he said smoothly.

She glanced at him skeptically, "Liar."

"Not me, my dear," he teased, placing his forehead against hers, "Never me."

~: Mary Margret :~

She really, really should not have signed up for this.

Oh wait, she hadn't signed up for this.

The town was utter mayhem, putting up decorations for the big night. Every lamp post was strung with lights, and green springy leaves with budding flowers to depict life's renewal. It was only two days until the ball.

Ruby was insatiable. She had Ashley and her team make four banners that now hung across town. Flyers were everywhere. David had even been dragged into the mess. Emma was ready to shoot anyone that asked her anything that didn't have to do with actual police business, now spending hours holed up at the station.

And people either loved and supported Mary Margret, or they hated her. It was hard, having such a hot and cold contrast. She didn't know how to handle it.

She sat in the diner, waiting for David to come, her foot tapping anxiously as she kept glancing out of the door. The diner was practically empty. Ruby wasn't there serving, despite it being a Monday. It was Isabelle.

"I thought you had the night off," she said to her as Isabelle stepped towards her.

"I did. I switched with Ruby. She begged me," Isabelle shrugged powerlessly.

Mary Margret understood that entirely, "No one can deny Ruby anything when she begs."

Isabelle giggled, "I'll be more aware next time. Can I get you something?"

"No, I'm waiting for David," Mary Margret said, looking out of the window again. Isabelle smiled politely, before beginning to move away. Mary Margret stopped her, "Hey Isabelle, come sit with me for a minute."

"Um, alright," she agreed, looking around the basically empty room, before sliding into the seat across from Mary Margret, fiddling with a rag. Mary Margret saw the bruise, now a yellowish green on the side of her face.

"How does that feel?" she asked, concerned.

"It doesn't even hurt," Isabelle smiled kindly, twisting the rag in her hands.

"It's healing fast," Mary Margret pointed out.

She nodded glancing away, "Yes, thankfully."

"You look happier… since you've moved in with your dad. Did Henry-?" Mary Margret confirmed that there was no one listening, before leaning closer, "Did Henry help you and Mr. Gold get back together?" At the look of surprise and then guilt on Isabelle's face, Mary Margret drew her conclusion. They had gotten back together. She waved her hands in front of her, "Oh, don't worry- I won't tell anyone!"

She sounded frantic, "Please don't! I- Henry is the only one that knows and I really don't want word getting around to-," she paused, looking away at the table and biting her lip.

"To Emma? Yeah, she thinks he's a creep," Mary Margret nodded understandingly, thinking about how Emma would react if she learned about this.

"Please… don't tell," Isabelle looked up at her in earnest, "I-." She stopped as she looked past Mary Margret to the door, and her expression froze.

"What is it?" Mary Margret turned around.

The doorbell chimed, and Mary Margret's own blood ran cold. She'd been avoiding her as best as she could in this little town, but they had been bound to run into each other eventually. She watched as her purple lips pursed as she looked around the diner, "Has anyone seen Henry?" Regina asked.

"No-," Mary Margret said automatically, drawing Regina's attention.

Her gaze lit on fire, a look of pure loathing that sent Mary Margret sliding away from her as she made to advance. "Oh, it's you."

Isabelle stood up sharply, stepping partially in front of Mary Margret to hide her from view.

"He's not here, Ms. Mills," Isabelle said, clenching the rag in her fist.

Regina's gaze was drawn away. She stared at Isabelle with almost as much fury. Mary Margret instantly felt guilt for cowering behind her. "Miss – French, isn't it?" Regina's words were steeped with dislike, "Did something happen to you _dearie_? That looks a little painful," she was talking about Isabelle's bruise, "What? No white knight to the rescue? Oh, that's right. He never did like shining armor."

"Henry's not here, Regina," Isabelle repeated steadily, gazing past her shoulder.

"Yes, I can see that," Regina straightened from her leer, "You keep your head down, Miss French, or you'll end up with more a lot worse than that." She gestured to Isabelle's face, and Mary Margret gasped in anger. She was trying to intimidate-

"Threaten all you like, Madam Mayor," Isabelle said, her voice still steady and almost as angry, "I don't fear you any longer."

Regina's mouth tightened, "Your mistake." She turned on her thin heel and stalked out of the diner, the door chiming behind her.

"What was that about?" Mary Margret demanded as Isabelle sat down again, looking a little discouraged.

She smiled wanly, "It's a long story."

"I've got time," Mary Margret encouraged, leaning forward.

There was another chime at the door, "Mary Margret," David's voice made her smile.

"David!" she said excitedly.

"Apparently not," Isabelle said, standing up by pushing off the table. Mary Margret gave her a guilty look, which Isabelle shook her head at, "I'm sure I'll talk to your later. Don't be worried, Mary Margret. You're going to be a queen again."

**A/N: Not as long as normal I know, but what did you guys think? Belle is so brave! XD**

**And for all of those who review faithfully, you're phenomenal! No really, you're whats keeping me writing! I don't know what I'd do without you! **

**Anyways, thank you lots, my dearie! **

**(OH! And Regina is so terrible! Using DEARIE- eck. Evil.)**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Hello!**

**AND THANK YOU! For all the reviews- it was really kind of you all to do that. :)**

**Here- enjoy! **

Chapter 27

~: Henry :~

One day- one day until the ball.

But there was a problem.

Miss Blanchard wasn't going to win.

Ruby had assigned people to take a poll, and Miss Blanchard had been down by a lot. 47% of the residents were planning on voting for the Evil Queen. Miss Blanchard only had 32% of the votes and 21% had reserved judgment, or hadn't been polled because they hadn't been found. Like Mr. Gold- Henry had looked for him everywhere. But… he'd searched all today and all yesterday, and he had yet to be found. Even Belle hadn't seen him. And Belle was worried.

Henry sat on a bench, thinking, holding the closed book in his lap. The stranger, August W. Booth, had told him that the answers were in the book but-

He didn't know how that was going to convince people to vote for Miss Blanchard…

"Hey Kid." It was Emma.

He didn't look up as she sat down next to him, "Hi, Emma."

"What's eating ya?" she asked, trying to look him in the face.

"Miss Blanchard's not going to win the Charity Ball," he said dejectedly.

Emma elbowed him, "Hey, you don't know that."

"Yes I do. Ruby did a poll," Henry said, bending his head lower, trying to keep her out of his sight.

"Yeah, well Ruby did that poll yesterday. People might have changed their minds by now, you don't know," Emma said supportively, nudging him again.

He brought his head up to look at her with dismay, "Why would they?"

Emma was trying to make him feel better, her eyes looking into his, "Because Regina's been acting like a witch from hell- oh, I mean," she stuttered to a stop.

He looked at her dryly, "You don't have to edit stuff. I know swear words."

"Yeah, but you're ten," Emma said guiltily.

Henry shrugged as Pongo barked across the street, "So? Kids at school swear all the time."

She threw him a skeptical look, "And you don't?"

"No. Swearing sounds dumb on kids my age," Henry shrugged again.

Emma smiled to one side, wrapping her arm around him, "You're smart, you know that?" He couldn't help but smile a bit at that. His mom was so cool. She looked at him then,"So want to go get some ice cream or something?"

Henry wasn't going to be distracted, not even by his cool mom. He lowered his head again, staring at the engravings on the book, "No, I'm looking for Mr. Gold."

"It doesn't seem like you're looking very hard," she said disheartened by his relapse.

"I know. I kinda gave up fifteen minutes ago," he admitted.

"Why are you looking for him?" Emma wanted to know.

There was no point in hiding the truth from her, "He's got a plan."

That definitely sparked her interest, "A plan for what?"

"A plan for breaking the curse, I think. And I've gotta stop him," Henry said, hating that it was true. He would do anything to help break the curse, but they had to do it right.

"Why?" Emma asked him, peering closer.

Henry was frustrated, "Because he's doing it wrong, and he knows it."

"Why is he doing it wrong?" Emma demanded.

"Because _you_ have to do it," he swung around to look at her, staring at her pointedly.

Emma leaned away from his intense gaze, "No I don't- if he can break the curse the more power to him."

"No, that's not how it's supposed to be!" Henry exclaimed annoyed. How could she not see it, after all this time?

"Why is he breaking the curse? I thought he liked it here, or, whatever," Emma shook her head.

Henry's irritation subsided, and he sighed, "Well, now he's got Belle back."

"What?"

Henry froze. He remembered Belle telling him not to tell anyone, remembered that he wasn't supposed to give them away to anybody, "I mean-."

"What did you say?" Emma's voice was sharp, scarily so.

"Wh-Wh-What I meant was that Belle's alive, and he thought she was dead, so he's trying- trying to make it up to her, by bringing her back," Henry said, trying to smile through his fear.

Emma turned her head to glower at him through the sides of her eyes, "They're not together, are they?"

"No, of course not," Henry beamed.

She took a deep breath through the nose, "You're lying to me Kid." She stood up.

"No, wait, Emma-," Henry grabbed her hand.

She turned back at him, when a voice interrupted them, "Hi."

It was the stranger. Henry let go of her hand. Emma faced August, confused and irate, "Hey. What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to, steal you for a second," he looked at Henry, who smiled at him encouragingly.

"Alright- you, stay put," Emma said, pointing at Henry as though pinning him to the bench. He wasn't going anywhere. He wanted to know what August had to say.

They stepped away a few feet, as though that distance would keep Henry from hearing. He pretended to be looking at his book, but his ears were on high alert.

"So I take it the answer is still no," August said slowly, uncertainly.

"Yeah, yeah it is," Emma sounded guilty but determined.

"Well then, I suppose I'll see you there," August was faking cheer- or was he? He was kind of illusive. Henry knew what they were talking about though. They were talking about the ball, tomorrow night.

"Maybe," Emma was hesitant.

"What do you mean maybe?" August wanted to know. Henry did too. It was the Charity Ball- everyone went. It just- it just always… Henry's mind started to over think.

"I just- I just don't like it," Emma sounded doubtful, nervous.

"What? Dancing?" August joked.

"No, feeling like I have to go to this – this – thing. I don't know," her mind was clouding over, just as quickly as Henry's was. Magic. He could feel it trying to cloud his senses, make him forget. Normally he was immune. How much magic had the Evil Queen put into this ball?

"Interesting," August's voice sounded like Henry's thoughts.

"What?" Emma asked penetratingly.

"Nothing. I'll see you there," August said, and Henry heard his steps receeding.

"Alright," Emma said slowly, "I mean, yeah."

"If you do come, can I at least have one dance?" August's voice was hopeful.

"Yeah, sure," and Henry could hear the smile in her tone, even if it was unsure.

"I look forward to it, then," August sounded contented by that.

August liked her, and Emma might like him. Well, August had said that he was there for Emma… Who was August though, and why was he there? Did he really like Emma?

"What was that about?" Henry asked knowingly as Emma sat back down next to him on the bench.

Emma glowered at him, "Don't worry about it."

"That was August W. Booth, huh?" Henry looked after the man walking towards his motorcycle.

Emma nodded uncomfortably, "Yep, that was him."

Henry turned back to her, eyeing her as she watched August, "You should go with him. To the ball."

That snapped her back to reality. She narrowed her eyes at him, "That. Is none of your business, Kid."

"Right," Henry said, a smile on his face.

~: Mary Margret :~

Mary Margret was staring herself in the mirror as Ashley put the finishing touches on the gown. It was white, feathery, and absolutely beautiful. It was perfect. At least Ashley had said so over and over again.

But Mary Margret didn't know if she could go through with this. She wanted to go, of course, she wanted to go dancing with David… but all of this? This was… too much. She had to go in there, into that ballroom, and face everyone in town… and lose. Ruby's poll had said so- Mary Margret was going to lose by a long shot. Lose to the Mayor. Again. It was so much to deal with… she looked down, away from her reflection, which was so familiar, and yet… All of this conflict was giving her a headache.

"You guys, I'm not sure I want to do this-," Mary Margret said, twisting her fingers.

"Hey," Ruby said, pushing herself off of the wall, to step up next to Mary Margret and look at her in the mirror, and smiled as she shook Mary Margret's shoulders, "You're going to show up there, head held high." Ruby was already put together, thickly make-upped, her hair curled to perfection, which was odd, because Mary Margret had only ever really seen it straight, and she was wearing a red, slinky dress.

"And you're going to dance, and have fun, and David will be there-," Ashley put in with a grin and pins in her mouth. She had already done her hair, a beautifully ornate bun at the top of her head, but hadn't put on her dress yet.

"She doesn't have to go."

It was Emma, who was leering in a corner.

"Of course she does," Ruby said, turning to face Emma in surprise.

"Everyone has to," Ashley reminded her.

"See, I don't get that part," Emma said, her brow furrowed as she stepped forward, "Why?"

"I don't know- we just do," Ashley told her, as though it were obvious. Well, it was obvious. They had to go.

"I don't like it," Emma was staring at the floor as though it had answers, if only she could peel it away to find them underneath the floorboards.

"Well, we just have to grin and bear it, don't we?" Ruby sighed, stepping towards Emma.

"No, we don't," Emma muttered determinedly.

"What are you saying, Emma?" Ashley looked puzzled.

"I'm saying the fact that I'm already in a dress for this thing is freaking me out," Emma motioned to her own gown, and then stopped a heeled foot, "I hate this sort of thing."

"Well maybe you shouldn't go, Emma," Mary Margret suggested, though the words were barely out of her mouth before she realized how insane they were.

"I have to," Emma growled.

"But you just said-," Mary Margret tried.

"Yeah, I know what I just said, but I don't get it-," Emma snapped, touching a hand to her forehead.

"Emma-," Mary Margret tried again.

"I'll meet you there," Emma said, grabbing her jacket and keys off the counter as she made to stalk out.

"Emma!" Mary Margret shouted just before Emma slammed the door.

Ashley stood up, grabbing Mary Margret by the shoulders, and smiled supportively, "She'll be ok."

Mary Margret shook her head at the ground, "Yeah I guess…"

Ashley patted her shoulder supportively, and then exclaimed right in Mary Margret's ear, "Hey! Guess what I found to wear tonight?"

"What?" Mary Margret and Ruby chorused.

Ashley was rummaging through a bag that she'd brought along with her. Mary Margret had thought that it was only full of sewing supplies, but Ashley drew two things, and turned to face them. "These see through slippers- and they're not tacky- look!"

They were two beautiful see-threw heels, sparkling, looking almost like glass.

"Those are beautiful! Wow, Ash, where'd you get them?" Ruby wanted to know, moving to touch one of them.

"I just- found them," Ashley shrugged, beaming.

"Wow, Ash- hey, shouldn't you go get ready?" Ruby looked at the clock, startled.

Ashley nodded, holding her shoes close to her, "Yeah… Mary Margret, Ruby, you guys look amazing." She smiled, her voice kind.

"If it weren't for you I wouldn't be in this-," Mary Margret gestured at herself in this dress.

Ashley smiled, her joy not easily concealed, "Hey don't thank me. You're the Queen tonight, no matter what happens."

Mary Margret stopped, trying to find the words as her throat thickened, "You guys," she paused, looking for the right thing to say in her hands, "are the best-."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Ruby said teasingly, steering Ashley away, who barely managed to snag her bag before Ruby stalked her past it, "We'll see you there."

"Bye, Mary Margret!" Ashley waved, brightly, and Ruby smiled, before closing the door behind the pair of them.

"See you…" Her voice trailed off as she stared at herself in the mirror. This was so familiar. It was almost like déjà vu. "So weird," she muttered to herself, "Why do I feel like this would look better if I had longer hair?"

~: Belle :~

He was there. She recognized him in an instant, her heart almost stopping as she stopped fussing with herself in the mirror. He had come. She was so sure that he wouldn't come, that he would be too busy with whatever he was doing. He'd been half gone for so long, that when his presence gained strength, she spoke up automatically, her voice shaking, hoping, wishing that he would answer, "Will you dance with me tonight?"

She saw him appear behind her- she was looking at herself in the mirror, wearing her golden dress, and he- he was dressed in a tailored three piece suit, his hair tamed away from his face, as he stepped forward.

"Yes," his voice- she felt relief fill her as she inhaled slowly, shuddering.

"But she'll be there," Belle reminded him, half heartedly.

"Yes, that is true," he agreed, his voice thick, and lilting and so comforting.

She didn't need to ask where he had been. For one, he would not tell her, he could see it in the guilty way that he stared into her eyes through the mirror's reflection as he continued his way slowly towards her. And two, she wasn't stupid. "Whatever you've been planning, you're planning to start it tonight, aren't you?" she smiled wanly.

"Yes, I am." She liked the way he said yes, but she felt doubt seep into her bones with the words.

She had to ask, not the plan, because he wasn't going to tell her, but, "Is it- is it going to be- dangerous?"

"No, not for you," he assured her, stepping closer to her. That's not what she wanted to know. She wanted to know what was going to happen to Henry, to Emma, to Mary Margret and David and all of her friends. Were they going to be ok?

"For who then?" she asked him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. His touch- he hadn't been there for so long, she leaned against him.

"No one we like," he assured her, burying his face in her neck.

"How-?" she cut herself off before she could go any further.

"It's a matter of energy- she's woven so much of her own magic into this ball of hers, I can use it…" he said, looking at her through the mirror again, "To take us back. It's a little – well, a lot more complicated than that, but… so much should counter the curse."

"But the people, who don't remember?" Belle asked, watching her face furrow in concern.

"I've tried to organize it so that people will remember," he told her simply, "Things should be- similar enough… that it should jog their memories. If not, well… When they're back they'll remember soon enough."

It was a miracle that he was revealing anything to her, "You mean, we're going back?" She couldn't believe it.

"If this works out accordingly, yes," he smiled at her breathless face.

She had to wonder aloud, "I thought Emma was the one to-."

His face darkened, "She isn't moving fast enough."

"Isn't it prophecy, though? The Blue Fairy said-."

He interrupted her train of thought, "I never liked the fairies much."

She sighed, looking away from their reflection, staring at his hands around her waist, pulling her closer to him, "Rumpelstiltskin-."

"I have something for you," he told her, and she watched his hands retract.

"Something else?" she was surprised by it.

"Here," he smiled, at least, she heard the smile, as she looked up to the mirror.

"Will it cost me anything-?" her voice died in her throat, as she stared at him looping something around her neck, watched it sparkle. He clasped it, and then helped pull her hair free of it, as she reached to fiddle with the diamond she recognized so well, "Rumpelstiltskin-!" was all she could manage, peering closer at it. It was the same one, "How, I?"

He wasn't looking at her through the mirror anymore. He was looking at her over her shoulder, "Your mother's necklace. Your father pawned it to me a long time ago."

"And- you kept it?" she said, leaning so she could see his face, shocked.

He smiled teasingly, "I keep a lot of things, my dear, if you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed," she admitted, her voice tipped with sarcasm, and then she sobered, and kissed him. His hands were around her waist again, pulling her closer, and she broke away quickly with a gasp. He searched her gaze, and then bowed his head. She leaned back into his shoulder, "I missed you."

"I know," he said simply, and she felt his breath on her bare shoulder.

"No- I just… I just wish you could tell me," she looked away from him.

"All will be revealed soon enough, my dear." He was so serious tonight; there was no teasing in his features. She could tell he was concentrating on something, though she could sense he wished to be all there, all with her. She wished he would relax, let her in a little bit more.

"I know… I guess, I'm just impatient," she quirked her mouth at him, and he smiled.

"You always have been," he acknowledged.

She cupped his face to hers, and kissed him again. He drew her in, and she leaned her head farther to kiss him more deeply.

This time, he broke away, stepping away from her with a flourish.

"Now," he smiled, his eyes dancing again, all seriousness gone. For a moment she felt guilty- he'd heard her wish, "You must be on your way. We have to get there before the clock strikes twelve."

"Aren't you coming with me?" she wanted to know. She didn't think she could be separated from him again without- without fear. It had scared her, that he hadn't been there for almost three days, not even a real shadow of him. She had considered being careless on purpose, but- whatever he was doing it was important. Important to him, to the people of Storybrooke. She had had to let him do it. But now he was here.

"Take my hand," he offered her his, and she, with a coy smile, took it.

They disappeared without a trace from her small bedroom.

**A/N: This chapter was kind of like the deep breath before the plunge, don't you think? **

**Hey, guys, it's time to be real for a moment (No Megamind reference there…)**

**I've been pumping these out hard core. It's been awesome, I've been totally immersed in Storybrooke, but I need to get back to the real world for longer than I have been lately. So, I'm sorry to announce, I won't be posting every night anymore.**

**Please don't be mad! I really promise to post every other night- I just need to get settled into life again.**

**On the up hand, this means I'll be able to spend more time and detail on the chapters, more emotion and action, and less dialogue. That's going to be needed in these next chapters for sure. My writing has been going downhill since Chapter 16, and I really need to focus on the characters and their actions again. **

**On the downside, this story is going to be over soon. I know, I know, but, I can't drag this out for anymore than that. :) We don't want this to be like Lost, now, do we? (I kid, I kid, I loved Lost). **

**Know that you are the greatest, and when this is over I'll be starting work in the Rumbelle Wars on Tumblr, where apparently you can prompt others- I'd really love to use ideas from you, and it should be loads of fun still. (thank you ohyourlipsaredelicious, for introducing me ;)) **

**For now, that's all- I should be posting again on Tuesday. Love you lots! **

**Oh- by the way, did I mention I draw too- um… I know the link won't work, but we can try. **http:/teddystwin(.)deviantart(.)com/ - **remove the brackets. I also love prompts for my artwork, especially Rumpelstiltskin and Belle at this moment. ;) I'm a little obsessed if you haven't noticed… **

**Anyways, ttfn, ta ta for now! **


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: Thank you for being so understanding about real life. It's just trying, sometimes, you know?**

**ALSO. You that went and looked on my deviantart page- THANK YOU- you are phenomenal! And to those who want me to finish my other story I started- I will. :) You're right, I shouldn't abandon it like I have. Forgive me my impudence…**

**Well, I suppose I promised you a chapter, so here it is! Read 'em and weep! ;)**

Chapter 28

~: Belle :~

It was all light and the sounds of an orchestra when she materialized out of nowhere. It was a fancy room, beautiful white marble columns, and shining orbs of light that she would have mistaken for fairies if she hadn't given them a second look. The room was large, with two spiraling staircases that joined one another as they descended to the floor, and yet it was full. It was full of people dancing to waltz music, dressed in gowns befitted for queens, and men dressed in sharp suits like the one Rumpelstiltskin had been wearing. The room was so like something out of the Enchanted Forest, that it took Belle a little too long to realize that it wasn't.

She thought she began to understand what Rumpelstiltskin had been doing.

She turned to look at him in amazement, only to find him gone.

She called out his false name into the crowd, but nobody heard. There was too much chatter, and she wasn't able to see him in the masses of dancing bodies and people along the walls smiling and laughing with one another.

They had appeared in a corner of the room, and Belle was now stuck behind several layers of people, so she could only see a few people's heads turn as they danced. She tried to bounce up on her toes, but she saw nothing, only managing to bump into a grumpy looking man, his friend apologizing for him.

She turned to look out of the dark window next to her, wondering where on Earth Rumpelstiltskin might have gone to, and saw something so beautiful it made her breathe catch.

Mary Margret stepped out of David's truck, and David offered her an arm with a gallant smile. Belle had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life. Her dress was brilliantly white, dazzling, and showed how fair her skin was, how red her lips were, how ebony haired she was- Snow White in the flesh. She and David stepped through the doors together just as the music died, and everyone turned to see the late arrivals. She heard everyone gasp as Mary Margret walked through the parting crowds, and again Belle couldn't see but watched as everyone stared in absolute amazement. The true royalty had returned, and even with their memories clouded, they could see their true forms.

Belle smiled brilliantly as she understood what Rumpelstiltskin had been preparing.

~: Mary Margret :~

Everyone was staring. Everyone was staring and she didn't know what to do about it. She could only take Ruby's advice, hold her head high and continue to walk towards the stairs, searching desperately for someone, anyone, to go to, instead of walking in this straight line between all of these people.

She looked up at David, who glanced back. He seemed just as surprised as she was, just as startled, and just as nervous, though they both wore smiles. He hid it better than her. It wasn't fair.

And then, praise the heavens, there was Emma, standing near the stairs, her arms folded across her chest. Same, wonderful, aggressive looking Emma, that had scared away all bystanders with that glare of hers. Mary Margret felt herself quickening her pace to get to her, half dragging David along until he caught up.

Words began to fill the air again as they neared Emma, and Mary Margret, letting go of David's arm, outright hugged her. Emma, baffled, stood motionless for a few seconds before patting her back, and then holding her.

Emma was such a support. Despite everything, Kathryn's murder, her arrest, Regina's wrath, Emma had always believed in her, had always had faith that she would be there for her when she needed her. Emma was wonderful, a light in a dark room.

"Hey, you ok?" Emma asked as Mary Margret held her for a far bit too long.

"Yeah," Mary Margret said, and for some reason she felt tearful. "Yeah, I am."

"Good- because they're going to announce the winner soon," Emma said, pursing her lips.

Mary Margret's eyes widened, "Already?"

"Yeah, you do realize you're late, right?" Emma demanded, folding her arms again as she stared at the pair of them.

"That was my fault," David admitted guiltily. "I, um, I made a stop by our spot at the toll bridge…" he trailed off.

Emma put up a hand to stop him, "Alright- I got it. No need for the gory details," she smiled at Mary Margret, who smiled back.

"So where is Regina?" David asked Emma, stepping closer.

"Madam Mayor? She hasn't shown her ugly mug yet," Emma glowered at the staircase, "Though I'm sure she's up there somewhere."

"Well, until then, Mary Margret, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" David asked, offering a chivalrous hand.

Mary Margret smiled at him, so happy despite the fact that in mere moments she could be publically humiliated when she lost. He was there. Why had she doubted coming? David was there, her David, her whole, wonderful shining David, his blue eyes bright and fixed on her face. How could she have even considered saying no to such a Prince Charming?

He led her onto the dance floor as the music started up.

"I'm a bad dancer," she admitted as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Don't worry," he grinned as he began to lead, "I'm a worse one."

~: Henry :~

He had to get there.

He was so glad the Evil Queen had fixed his bike, because else wise he'd have to be doing a LOT more running in life. He beat every kid racing during PE, and everyone wanted him on their team for kickball during recess. Well, he had run around town his whole life. He guessed it should be paying off.

This time, though, he was going to be too late for Miss Blanchard's coronation. He had dressed up in his Sunday best and everything, but his adoptive mother had gotten a babysitter. As though he needed a babysitter. He could take down a troll- he'd been practicing swordplay ever since he'd helped Belle escape from the asylum, and he'd been absolutely helpless against it. Well now, he carried pen and his pocket knife from scout camp. It wasn't a sword, but he'd get one sooner or later, especially when the curse was broken.

For now, he peddled his way across town, wondering how long it would take for the babysitter to break out of the living room. He'd propped up chairs against the door handles so she couldn't escape. Well, he'd made sure she had plenty of food- he'd stocked the room with enough potato chips and soda to last someone three days, and she had television. She hadn't stirred when he'd locked her in. Maybe she wouldn't even notice that he was gone.

With his luck? Yeah right.

~: Belle :~

She had danced three times now, each three different partners.

They all complimented her on her dress, on how unique the design was. They had then tried to ask her questions that meant almost nothing to her. What year had she graduated high school? What were her favorite pastimes? What was the color of her toothbrush- that was the oddest one of the lot, and she had smiled, and answered that it was clear. That was the only real time they had gotten her attention though.

The rest of the time she had been looking.

She couldn't find him anywhere.

She saw Snow White- er- Mary Margret dancing with David around the center of the ballroom, looking blissful and content. Everyone was staring at them, but they seemed oblivious. They looked truly happy. She'd seen Ashley, looking almost exactly like Cinderella, waltzing around with Sean, giggling at something he said. She had smiled when Ashley had waved to her. What was probably most surprising of all, was Ruby. Dancing with Archie.

She had to blink twice as awkward, yet confident Archie spun her around the room, to make sure she wasn't seeing things. And Ruby, looked happy- not just that wolfish smile she gave everyone, but a real smile. She couldn't believe it. She would not have thought- but then, true love came in all different forms. Who was she, of all people, to judge?

Ruby hadn't even acknowledged her, but Archie had, with a polite nod in her direction, before continuing to speak with Ruby about something to do with memory loss. Belle's ears tried to perk up, and then turned to find her father, standing and staring at her with a glass in his hand. She had known that he was coming, she just had forgotten. She smiled, and waved at him. He raised his wine glass to her, before they spun again and he was out of sight behind the man's shoulder she was dancing with. It was all the same. The dance had ended, and the man she had been dancing with told her in a hostile tone that it was nice to meet her. She extended the same courtesy, before going back to hide in the corner Rumpelstiltskin had put her in. She wanted so badly for him to find her. She did feel somewhat guilty though, for not being polite to the men who had taken time to dance with her. It was just, there was no one else she wanted to dance with. She had found her-.

"True love?"

Belle whirled to find him standing beside her.

He glanced at her through the sides of his eyes, and she couldn't help but smile at him, even if it was an incredulous one at that. He had been disappearing too much for her liking, and he knew it. He turned to face her with a theatrical flourish, "May I have this dance?" he asked her, his smile mischievous and tantalizing.

She curtsied, "Why- of course," she made to extend her hand, but snatched it back, uncertain, "Wait- you won't disappear out on the ballroom floor, will you?"

He raised his eyebrows at her, "No," but when she still kept her hand from grasp he rolled his eyes, and spoke, "I promised you a dance, my dear, and you shall have it."

"Do we have a deal?" she wanted to know, still doubtful. He would do anything to tease her. She wasn't about to be dancing with thin air at the middle of the dance because he felt the urge to disappear.

"Only if you promise not to step on my toes," he warned.

She laughed at that, "Deal."

She offered her hand to shake, but he brought it to his lips, startling her. His eyes flickered up to dance at her, before he led her through the crowd, and into the people spinning around them.

He placed his hand around her waist, and pulled her very close, so their noses nearly touched, and Belle couldn't help but blush and look away, before he started gracefully into movement. She followed, letting her lead him, now staring shamelessly into his enigmatic, mischievous eyes.

Dancing with him was like floating. She felt as though they moved together seamlessly, and she never hesitated to follow him, whatever he did, whether he spun her around, or spun her away and drew her in again, she moved without flaw with his guidance. Her only other dancing partner that had tried to do these things with her had been her betrothed, Gaston. But he had been too tall, too strong, too commanding, and he hadn't known her. He'd thought he'd known her, but he'd misjudged, pulling her in too soon, or too slowly, spinning her too quickly. He'd even lifted her, which was something she was _not_ comfortable with.

Rumpelstiltskin knew her, knew her movements, knew how and when she would respond. He knew her. He knew that she would twirl her leg out, so he paused to let her catch her balance and at just the right moment, he would whirl her in again, and smile, because they were at exactly the same distance as they had been before the venture away.

Her stomach was twisted in pleasant knots, the way he pulled her close, the way he smiled knowingly, as though he was the one putting the knots there on purpose. She loved the way his long fingers felt against her back, how his guiding hand's thumb caressed her finger tips. She loved the intense look in his eyes. She wished the dance would never end.

"I can't give you that one, my dear," he told her, his voice solemn.

She blinked in surprise, "Sorry- I didn't mean-."

He stopped her before she really began, "I know- I can normally tell the difference between the intended wishes and the haphazard ones."

She glanced away, biting her lip and stared down at her dress instead, "Do they- bother you?"

"No-," he smiled, his face right in hers, and he cocked his head to the side, his eyes staring dedicatedly at her features, "why feeling so self conscious tonight, dearest?"

"Because- I'm just- anxious," she admitted, glancing away again.

And she was. From the moment they arrived she'd felt anxious, and while some of it was good, was positive, most of it felt foreboding and ominous. Magic. She had smelled it, sensed it, but she hadn't really been able to pinpoint it until now. And it wasn't just Rumpelstiltskin's magic. No- it was something deeper and darker. It was the Queen's magic, mixed with the curse's. A flashback reminded her all too well how the Queen's magic worked, how it could scar and maim-.

She shuddered violently in his grasp, and he pulled her closer, making her head rest on his shoulder.

"Cold?" he breathed onto her neck.

She pushed closer, "No-," she breathed, staring out at the crowd, who all seemed faceless, like the colors of a giant cloud as they spun, "Just- remembering."

"Something I did?" he wanted to know, his voice a murmur in the midst of noise, but she would listen to him anywhere.

She smiled thinly, "Now who's self conscious?"

He chuckled, "Still you, my dear."

"It's the magic," she told him, She had felt like they had been dancing at the edge of a knife, and if they strayed but a little, they would lose themselves over the edge. It would suit that it was a magical knife.

"I assumed." His tone was grim.

"Was it you, who did all of this?" she asked, letting go of his shoulder to spread her arm wide across the hall, pulling back to look at his reaction.

"Who made it so alike our old world? Yes," he smiled at the almost magical scenery, his eyes darkening maliciously. "Her Majesty won't appreciate my intrusion. I also helped with the costuming too- it was hard, catching the eyes of those who are often too blind to pay attention to what's in front of their faces. It's part of what I was doing."

"I knew it," she beamed, proud of her ability to guess, "Why do we have to go back so soon?" she wanted to know, but it was his turn not to look at her, to look down and away. She pressed further, "There is so much to learn here, so much to be and see, and do."

He looked up at her in all seriousness then, "And that's why we have to go back."

She furrowed her brows at him, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing. The sooner we get home, the better," his mouth was thin, and he looked away from her.

She leaned closer, trying to grasp the attention of his eyes, "You want to go back to Dark Castle, when you could go to Europe instead?" she was baffled by the thought.

"Dark Castle is my home, Belle. I – have wanted to go back for some time, but now that you're here-," he broke off. He was sounding sentimental, and he didn't like it.

"Now that I'm here, what?" she demanded.

He looked at her sharply, "There's so much here that you're in danger from-."

She rolled her eyes at that, "There aren't even dragons here, Rumpelstiltskin."

A couple next to them eyed them oddly, and Rumpelstiltskin lifted his brows at them threateningly. They circled away, nervously glancing back at him as he turned back to Belle.

He returned to his case, "But there are guns, nuclear weapons, diseases I can't cure-."

"Cancer doesn't scare me," she told him half truthfully, naming one of the odd diseases that she had learned about.

"What if your father contracted it?" he asked, and he knew he had a point there. She bit her lip, looking back at where she'd seen her father last. She didn't know what she would do if her father died. It would break her heart. And then- what if something happened to any of them? Henry, Emma- who fought people all the time if being a sheriff was anything like the television shows- Mary Margret and David, who were in danger from the Queen- they were all in danger of her, and she needed to end. Her reign, her hold over all of them. It was unjust, wrong. They were meant to live lives in harmony and joy and live happily ever after.

She shook her head, getting back on topic, wondering aloud, "Is that why you want to get home so quickly? You're worried I'll be hurt?"

When he looked away quickly she knew she had guessed it, and her heart warmed. She knew he would never admit it though. She rested her head on his shoulder once more, safe as she breathed in his scent. He broke the silence hesitant at first, but his voice grew determined as the sentence ended, "And- I don't intend on making your wishes come true here."

She pulled back from his shoulder again to peer at him curiously, "Wishes?" she asked, blinking away, trying to remember what he must have been- she paused, and then he twirled her away from him as her mind spun faster and faster, "You mean-?" and she stopped mid twirl. He pulled her in again, pulled her in tight, before the music began to come to a close. He dipped her gracefully.

"Yes. That is what I mean," he told her there, his eyes intense and focused. She'd never seen such eyes.

She Euphoria filled Belle, made her want to fly, but she had to ground herself as he led her off of the dance floor, into a different corner this time, one that led away down a corridor. "But, so soon?" she shook her head as he took her down the dark hallway.

"I've waited a few decades too long," he shrugged simply, "wouldn't you say the same?"

Her heart was in danger of pulling her off the ground, it felt so very light. She had to ground it with doubt, had to keep both feet on the floor, "Yes of course- but-."

He stopped, and faced her then, a lit window illuminating his outline, "I would have thought you'd been incandescently happy about all of this. I'm supposed to be the nervous one," he teased.

She hadn't wanted to hurt him- oh no, she had just wanted to be practical, to continue to be sane, because she was in serious danger of never touching the ground again, joy flowing freely and blissfully through her, "Oh- I just, can't -." She couldn't find words to describe- find words to even begin to explain, couldn't even think- She didn't know how to say- and those three words, she would have said too much, but not enough, never enough, to completely describe…

"What is this?" his voice was thick, but cheery, as he wrapped his arms around her, "My Belle, speechless?" he pressed his forehead to hers.

"It's not fair," she said breathlessly, her eyes finding his, and meeting the softness, the openness there that she had never seen in those eyes before. She could only smile incandescently, and loop her arms around his shoulders.

"I'm known to cheat," he grinned, but it wasn't malicious or mocking. It was truly him.

They kissed, the dark corridor disappearing to bright flowing colors of illuminated joy as he lifted her up with a laugh and spun her around, and around until she could only laugh at how dizzy she was, how dizzy the world was, how wonderful being dizzy was, if they were dizzy together. And he kissed her again, short, briefly and beautifully, filling her with hope and happiness until she felt like bursting into brilliant blissful bits of shining colors.

He seemed just as happy, just as bright, just as wonderful. He _was_ wonderful, all mystery and freedom in her eyes, tasting of life and vibrancy and a more vivid level of being.

He laughed with her, a free, unguarded sound that was more heartfelt than anything he'd ever spouted, before resting her on her feet. They had to cling to each other as they toppled into a wall, laughing even more.

It was so unlike him- and yet, so like him, she thought as they continued to laugh.

There was a clicking noise at the end of the hall that stopped his laugh short as his eyes snapped to peer through the darkness. She wouldn't have noticed it if his walls hadn't shot back up so quickly, though she knew she was behind them now, most of them at least, instead of in the middle and trying to barge her way in.

When he looked just as lost as she did, he turned to her. "I have to go."

She knew what he had been going to say before he said it, but it still stung. "I know."

He was gone in an instant, without a good bye or anything else but the lingering feeling that his eyes were on her.

She was left to wander back up the hallway, and back into the ball, glowing with joy, and waiting for his return.

That was- until the entrance of the Evil Queen.

~: Emma :~

"You look a little lost," a voice startled her from behind.

She swung around, glowering at her next victim, "Do I? I was merely admiring the scenery." She was pissed. She was in a dress, with heels and was being forced to be social. She didn't mind being social, she just minded being forced to be social. Fortunately enough her next victim was August W. Booth, looking very suave in a tuxedo.

"It looked like you were searching for someone," he commented, looking past her onto the swirling crowds of people.

"You're mistaken," she told him bluntly, but in fact she had been looking for him. She'd been watching for him all evening. It was half his fault she had decided to come. After turning him down so flatly she felt obligated to repay him with a measly dance.

"Ah, well, a man can dream," he smiled, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking on his feet. They watched for a while, and while she tried to find reasons to bite off his head, she couldn't manage to do it. She liked that he could just let her be in the same area and not have to find stupid ways to talk to her.

"Want to dance?" Emma asked him.

He blinked in surprise, "I thought you were opposed to dancing."

"Yeah I am, so you'd better take the opportunity while I'm still insane," she told him with a small smile.

He offered her his hand, and she took it, and they stepped into the dance. He was graceful, surprisingly so. But this man was all enigma. From the minute he had drove up to her in Storybrooke he had been. He carried around an ancient typewriter, he enjoyed wishing wells, he loved his motorcycle and he traveled the world without hesitation. Yet here he was, dashing and mystery rolled in one. She wondered if he was even called August.

"Just because you don't have proof doesn't mean it's not true," his words broke her concentration.

"What is that supposed the mean?" she wanted to know.

"However you want to take it," he told her.

Again with the puzzles?

The music stopped abruptly.

The pair of them stopped, and looked up as someone pointed.

It was Regina.

Dressed in a long slinky black lace covered dress, she walked down the staircase with all eyes on her. She smiled beatifically, but instead of silence like there had been at Mary Margret's entrance, there was murmuring, a hiss going up in the crowd. Emma herself scowled at the woman.

As she finally stepped onto their level, she raised her voice, "Thank you all for coming this evening to this year's Spring Queen Charity Ball. I hope you enjoy yourselves this evening. The announcement of the winner of the title of Spring Queen this year will be soon. Until then," she smiled, and the music slowly started up again.

"Well isn't she a piece of work," August muttered under his breath.

Emma smirked approvingly.

~: Regina :~

Her entrance had been perfect.

Or it would have been if she hadn't been so bewildered by the change in decoration. It must have been a last minute decision. She knew she should have gone to that last meeting, but she hadn't been able to make it. Now it looked akin to Snow White's castle, instead of her own. Ah well, se la vi, it mattered not.

She and Mary Margret had been asked to go up the stairs for the announcement of the winner. They had gone up opposite sides of the staircase, and in the middle where they joined a pulpit was being set up. It wouldn't be long now until she could crush that little-

"Regina-," it was Sydney, running up to her from the staircase, buffeting a camera man out of the way. Regina rolled her eyes. The man was so eager to please it was exhausting.

"Not now Sydney," she told him irritably.

"It will only take a second-," he promised, huffing as he reached her.

She glowered at him, "This is not the time."

"But-."

"And now we will be announcing the Most Charitable of Them All, the winner of this year's Spring Queen Charity Ball!" an announcer Regina recognized vaguely from television boomed to the audience over a microphone. Everyone fell silent. "Will both canadits come down please?"

Both Regina and Mary Margret began their descent at the same time, Regina waving Sydney off as he tried to whisper something to her. Regina glowered at Mary Margret when that little ghost of a girl glanced her way, before turning back to smile at the crowd. They paused at the bottom of the staircase where they adjoined into one, staring at one another.

"May the two contestants please come forward?" encouraged the man. As Regina stepped forward, the man began to list off the awards, a spot on City Council, in charge of charitable events for the rest of the year, etcetera etcetera. She didn't listen, only smiled at the people. Her people. Everyone in this miserable little town was hers to do with as she liked. Hadn't she proved that yet with Kathryn? She snapped back to attention as the man began to wrap up his glorified speech, being cut short by someone running him an envelope. "Well here are the results, ladies and gentlemen," he waved the envelope at them, a cheesy grin across his face. He was enjoying the rapped attention he was getting. Regina just wanted him to get on with it already, "And," he said with batted breath, and he began to tear open the envelope, "the winner is-.".

Everyone was staring. In the crowd Regina spotted little prince charming, and red riding hood staring up in hopeful expectation, Cinderella smiling with her fingers crossed, and there was Emma, grimly looking up at her, not at Mary Margret. Regina smiled confidently. She had won this honor for 28 years in a row, there was no way she was going to-

"Mary Margret Blanchard!" he announced.

-_lose_?

She felt her mouth drop open in utter and complete disbelief as Mary Margret, looking stunned, stepped forward as a smile grew across her ugly face.

Regina looked into the crowd in panic, in horror-

How had they chosen Mary Margret-?

And she spotted Rumpelstiltskin's face in the crowd. His wicked grin was what had caught her furious gaze, but it was the little flourish of a wave that ignited her fury.

He was behind this. Behind the changed decorations, behind the dress that Mary Margret wore- behind everything! As usual. He had ensured Mary Margret's victory. It had been him.

She didn't know how she got back up the stairs- she couldn't see anything in her blind rage besides a thousand ways to torture Rumpelstiltskin's sorry, pathetic-

She barely missed running right into Sydney, who was still hovering in her face. She felt like flinging him out of the way, shattering him against a wall.

"What?" she demanded, seething.

"I saw them," he said simply, his dark eyes full of anticipation.

"Saw who?" she didn't want to play these idiotic games.

He read her well enough to know not to withhold anything else from her. "That French girl you have me follow sometimes. And Mr. Gold. They were having a rather intimate rendezvous in a back hallway earlier this evening. You told me to report-."

The noise in her ears was a deafening ringing as her body froze up, "You saw this?" she managed to ask.

"Yes. I have proof," and he drew a small digital camera from his pocket, and flipped it on. "The pictures are dark."

But that didn't matter. The picture was clear enough to see the girl's face. And she would know that other outline anywhere. No, it didn't matter. It meant that their deal was broken. That he, Rumpelstiltskin had broken it. That she now had every right to do as she pleased to the imp without his being able to object. A smile, sickeningly sweet and cynical slipped across her face as she looked up into the man's eager face, "Sydney, I have _never_ been more impressed with you."

**A/N: *evil laughter* and you thought I was going to end on a high note. **

**Enjoy the cliffhanger dearies- until Thursday!**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: Haha! I'm posting UBER early today. This is because I have the Hunger Games premiere that I'm hoping to attend tonight at midnight, and I would feel guilty if I didn't post today. So here's me, posting. **

**First off, I'm really sorry I spelled C'est la Vie wrong (watch, I probably just spelled it wrong again …) no, but um, and about Mary Margret's name- well, it's like 267 pages too late to really begin to change, and it won't really matter after this chapter anyways. ;) **

**Also, I think I have about 8 chapters I plan on doing left- if that. So it is coming to an end. And hopefully, by that end, I'll have 1000 reviews. Is that a crazy goal? I really want to make it! It'd be AMAZING! – so your reviews are appreciated, just fyi! I love them all! **

**AND! Shout out to awesomeness- ohyourlipsaresodelicious! You're phenomenal dearie! Look at how she reviewed my last chapter! XD - **izzibella(.)tumblr(.)com/post/19685436304/my-reactions-whilst-reading-chapter-27-of –

**She's awesome! **

**OK- almost done. I just want to warn you all now… Remember that time- you know, back with that first kiss? Where I said I had to balance out the fluff with angst? You remember? Oh good. **

**Because I'm about to outweigh that fluff we had last chapter… I swear I'm not related to the Evil Queen, but man, I don't think she could have come up with something darker herself. **

**But… yeah, try to enjoy! :)**

Chapter 29

~: Mary Margret :~

People swarmed her as she descended the staircase. Ruby, wolf-whistling and managing to grin at the same time; Archie, smiling in approval next to her; Ashley beaming and absolutely bubbly; Belle cheering with the rest; Henry- Henry?

"What are you doing here?" she asked, startled as he rushed towards her.

"I wanted to see your coronation," he grinned broadly, wrapping his arms around her middle.

"Thank you-," she managed, before Ruby almost toppled her with her leap, and then there was Ashley, and people she didn't recognize, all in a hazy blur of congratulations and praise. Mary Margret could only smile and nod as though she understood any of it, but her own joy was enough to smother all sense of annoyance. She was only happy.

"Mary Margret!" a voice she knew as someone pushed their way closer. It was David, he was there, smilingly, glowingly handsome. He pulled her into his arms, and her joy, her confidence could never have been fuller ever than it was at that moment, when he kissed her right then and there, in front of the whole world to-

It broke the lock on her mind.

She felt her mind suddenly burst free.

Free from bondage, free from darkness, free from the curse. Free and all the memories began to flood, flowing through her mind. She gasped, breaking away from James as he opened his eyes in a flash-

~: Snow White :~

They locked on one another's gaze as she remembered, and watched him remember- remembered the troll bridge, and the forgetting potion she had so naively taken, the seven dwarves, how he'd awoken her with a kiss, the Evil Queen's threat, the birth of their darling daughter Emma-

Emma-

Emma- she knew Emma. Her Emma.

Emma Swan. Her Emma. They were one in the same.

She spun away from James, searching- and found her. Found Emma's face in the crowd. Emma – her Emma, alive, their little savior who had come to rescue them at last-

Their girl was all grown up.

She shoved her way through the crowd to get to her. She had to get to her. Her own daughter, "Emma!" she cried as she held her in her arms, realizing for the first time that they had been friends for so long, and now she knew, now she understood why they'd bonded so quickly. She pulled away from Emma, tears in her eyes to look at a very baffled, beautiful face, "Oh my darling, Emma- the last time I saw you, you were just a baby! And here you are, grown up and saving us from the Evil Queen's curse! I knew you could do it!"

Emma's face was looking more and more confused with every syllable Snow White spoke, "What-?"

"Snow-!" James was next to her.

"Charming- this is our daughter- can you believe it?" Snow White asked proudly, turning to her husband. "She's strong, just like you-."

"You remember?" it was Isabelle, asking in awe, stepping forward to touch Snow White on the arm.

"It worked!" Henry exclaimed in excitement, shouting his way into the middle of the throng, "Rumpelstiltskin's plan worked!"

"Rumpelstiltskin's plan?" Snow White asked, suddenly cautious, her eyes flicking about the room to try and find his imp face in the crowds.

"Where is that monster?" James commanded aggressively, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. It was an automatic reflex of his. She remembered that now.

"No, no," Henry said, stopping Isabelle from speaking, "He's kind of a good guy now."

"What is going on?" Emma said, stepping back from them, her face uncertain, doubtful.

"We remember now, Emma," Snow White smiled, and spread her arms wide.

"She doesn't know yet," August had appeared behind Emma, stopping her retreat.

"No seriously, this is freaking me out," Red- it was Red!

"Red!" Snow White cried, turning to hug her, but Red backed away.

"No- it's Ruby-."

Snow White didn't understand. Did they still not remember?

"I think we have to talk," August interjected. "In private?" he suggested.

"No, what is going on here!" Emma ordered as James took Snow White by the arm, leading her away.

"We'll get back to you," August promised, before bowing, "Your Majesties, this way?"

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

Everything was going according to plan- that was, if Charming and his little princess finally remembered- which, by the spike in the curse, they did. The little missy had finally had enough confidence for it to work. True love's kiss, yada yada yada. He giggled to himself as he walked up a hallway, away from the party towards her Majesty. It was time for her reign to end. He pulled from his pocket the chipped tea cup. He had admittedly stolen it from Belle's room. However, if it was going to go back with them he would need to store it- along with everything else he had stored- in his pocket dimensions. That way it would traverse with him safely through the dimensions.

He made to do so, he planned on putting it right next to the chipped mug, when a voice interrupted him.

"Mr. Gold?" Rumpelstiltskin spun on his heel to find one traitorous Sydney Glass staring at him from down the hallway. "I was wondering if I could have a word?" _Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the most annoying of them all? _He was too chipper to be truly cross, but he had a schedule to keep. Midnight was coming closer, and he needed that hour for his work.

"Sorry," he said without even being the teensiest bit sorry, "a little busy right now."

Sydney Glass was walking towards him, "I need to talk about you influencing the outcome of the vote tonight." The man was stupid enough to be pulling out a pen and notebook.

"Influence? I cast my vote like the lot of them. Nothing more, nothing less." Which wasn't strictly true. He had cast his vote, but he had done a little more to encourage some of the scarier folks in town to participate in little Snow's advantage. It hadn't been as much as he had been planning on however. A fair few of them had been planning on it all for the sake of the princess's cause, to take down her Majesty in a fair fight.

"Blackmailing half of Storybrooke to get them to vote for Miss Blanchard?"

He wanted his full attention? Well, this man now had it. "I had nothing to do with blackmail. I merely encouraged others to do the right thing. No blackmail- no-."

He felt a stab of pain in his neck, a pincer-like sensation that went straight into him.

He whacked the person away from behind him, cane slamming into solid, reeling around as he did so. With a snarl he pulled out whatever had been in his neck as Dr. Whale skidded several feet away on the floor. He gazed at what was in his hand as his vision began to blur. A syringe.

He turned back to the wretched little mirror, ready to break him into a thousand pieces, no matter how much bad luck it cost him, when he stumbled, a growl ripping from his throat. Everything was dimming around him, moving in jarring circles as his back hit a wall.

The tea cup slipped from his slacking grasp.

The cup shattered across the stone floor, pieces cascading everywhere, leaving him to gape in open horror at his life's second treasure lost in a matter of seconds-

He meant to kneel to get it, to fix it with magic but he collapsed, falling face first onto the ground, his mind fogging over. The chipped tea cup- _no, not the chipped cup, not her chipped cup_.

"What did you give him?" It was the traitorous mirror.

"A sedative- a powerful one at that," Dr. Whale wheezed, still standing away from him, "What do you think is going to happen now?"

"I think the Mayor will be pleased with what you have done, Dr. Whale. I think she will be very pleased."

He fell into unconsciousness.

~: James :~

He stood next to her. He would never leave her side again.

Snow was his water, his air. How had he been so blinded by the curse?

Henry and August had taken turns explaining what had happened, how they believed, August especially, that Rumpelstiltskin had found Henry in particular to be placed in Regina's care in Storybrooke to draw Emma there later, how Henry had brought Emma to Storybrooke to break the curse, how then Mary Margret, Snow White in disguise, had read him, James, awake, and how everything else had tumbled out into their laps, with Rumpelstiltskin regaining his magic, with Isabelle- Belle was her real name- helping him, and how now he was attempting to break the curse.

"So you see, everyone else is still under the spell," Henry said enthusiastically explaining the situation. "They can't remember- you know, and so we have to save them still. Well, Emma has to save them, and not Rumpelstiltskin."

"But she doesn't believe," Snow was saying, her dismayed concern troubling him. He wrapped an arm tighter around her waist. She leaned into him for support.

"We have to convince her," Henry seemed just as troubled.

"How?" James wanted to know.

"She won't like being forced into it," August warned, sounding by far the most hesitant. He had a hand covering his mouth as he pondered the predicament. "We have to let her know gradually."

"How gradually? I don't know if I can wait that long," Snow sounded desperate. After so many years he could not imagine denying her anything.

"We'll fix it soon, Snow," he vowed.

"You're saying that I have to go back out there and pretend that my baby is still just- just some girl I met and invited into my house?" Snow pointed down the corridor, towards the entrance to the ballroom, her voice shaking. She sounded near tears.

"I promise, your Majesty, that we can resolve this," August said soothingly, "These things just take time."

"Knowing my mom she'll need proof," Henry pointed out, pausing in his pacing.

Something clicked inside of James' head. Emma was his daughter. Henry was Emma's son. Did that mean-? "Are you-?" everyone stopped their thinking to stare at him, but he only had eyes for Henry, for little Henry, who was looking up at him with dark intelligent eyes. James had always wanted a son. "-my- I mean, our grandson?"

Henry's eyes brightened. "Yeah, I am."

"Henry," he grinned, letting go of Snow and stepped up to the boy, "you're my grandson, and I never knew."

"Well, you were in a coma for a really long time. And then it was the curse, so-."

James knelt down next to him, "I'm so proud of you! Look at everything you've accomplished and you're only ten-"

His face was a light- smiling. He saw himself there, saw Snow and Emma too. The boy was a prince in disguise, and a bright and quick one at that. How had he not seen it as well? There had been so many clues, so many signs, Henry staring him right in the face.

He grabbed the boy, hugging him. "We would never have been here without you."

The kid shrugged even as he hugged him back, "Sure you would have," he promised as James pulled away to get a look at his face, "It would have just taken forever," the boy smiled in jest.

~: Belle :~

She had to find Rumpelstiltskin, to tell him that the plan was working. His plan was working! Already their Majesties had remembered, and were talking with Henry and the Stranger August W. Booth about it. They were free of the curse. Now how were they going to get everyone else free?

"Rumpelstiltskin?" she spoke into the night, looking up at the ceiling as she leaned against the wall, "I wish that you were here."

She had wandered back to where he'd left her in the dark hallway, peering around for him as she waited, bouncing on her toes with excitement. Tonight was the best of nights, where all her wishes, all her dreams were coming true-

"My my, fancy meeting you here, _dearie_."

Belle twisted on the spot, to see the Evil Queen looming out of the darkness, her heels clicking on the stone floors. The breath caught in her throat as her stomach lurched. Regina- the Queen of her nightmares- but she couldn't let her know that. She straightened, holding her head high, eyes keen on her every movement.

"It looks like that treacherous little gremlin went back on one of his precious deals."

The Queen had found out. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said without a tremor in her voice. She would be brave.

The Queen laughed, a shrill cackling sound, "Oh, you don't, do you? Well," she tilted her head at Belle, her words simpering, "He knew the agreement. Did you? That if he stayed away from you that I would be forced to not harm a hair on your head?" Her voice lashed out, "Now he's broken that deal."

Belle tried not to let the Queen see her fear, "You don't know that."

"Oh don't I?" the Queen smiled to one side, lacing her well manicured fingers together, "The spikes in the currents of the curse? You think I don't recognize that? I should have realized sooner, but no matter. It means that he has his magic back, _dearie_. And how else could he have done that without you?" Belle felt herself close her eyes. She had hoped that Rumpelstiltskin's plan would have been faster, but it didn't matter. There was nothing the Queen could do now. Good was going to win. Belle kept her determined face. The curse was going to be broken. Rumpelstiltskin was making sure of it. There was nothing to fear.

"Though it makes sense, now, really," the Queen added lazily.

That startled Belle into speaking, her eyes opening with curiosity, "What does?"

"Well," Regina said, tilting her head at the ceiling, "if he kissed you out of "true" love he wouldn't have his magic back."

Belle felt her brows furrow, "What do you mean?"

"Do I have to explain everything to you?" Regina asked viciously, and Belle bit her tongue to keep from snapping at her. Belle hated being talked down to, and the Queen knew it from experience. She went on with a smirk, "If he truly loved you, his magic would be gone. Forever. He wouldn't just happen to have it back.

"You remember when you attempted to lift his curse before I'm sure? He wanted his beloved power over you. Because you see, if loved you truly, he would be nothing again. He would be back to his regular, normal state; a cowardly little man, hiding in a shack with nothing but his spinning to comfort him," she sneered.

"But he's-." she had to stop short. The Queen was right. He had magic still. _What_- she looked up into Regina's face. _What did that mean_? She staggered backwards, right into the wall. Rumpelstiltskin had his magic still. He had it still.

A smile slithered across the Queen's evil face, "Now, you see? That's why he's made this deal," she strutted around Belle, so that Belle had to turn her head to keep the snake in sight, "You're the only one who is capable of really breaking his curse, his real curse, the curse of the Dark One. That's why he's having me dispose of you."

Dispose of- "What?"

"How can I make this simpler?" she demanded, patting Belle on the head like a child, "_He wants you gone_. He knew that breaking the first seal over him on this world's curse would be enough from you and that was all. He doesn't want you to break the power that his personal curse holds over him. He likes the power magic gives him. He doesn't want to go back to that pathetic small sniveling man that he was. So he ensured that I would come after you. By making and breaking this deal."

Her world was reeling.

What she was saying was making sense-.

No- _no_ she couldn't let herself believe her. The Queen lied. She lied through her teeth, manipulating and demonic- and yet, and yet it made sense. It all made sense.

_Why_ did it make sense?

Despair clawed at her soul, ripping apart the fragile ball of glowing joy that had existed when he had told her they were leaving- because he had wanted to make all her dreams come true. _Rumpelstiltskin_? she called hesitantly, silently in her mind. He hadn't been watching her all that often recently. He wasn't now, not even a ghost of him. But she needed him. She needed him to deny the Evil Queen. But- but-

Did he not truly love her? Even still?

_No_- no, she couldn't believe that he didn't love her. _Rumpelstiltskin_! she cried out, _I wish that you would come, now, please_.

"I found this in another hallway." The Queen held up a broken handle- a broken handle Belle recognized, knew all too well.

Belle gasped, snatching it from her hands. _The chipped tea cup_- the chipped cup he had treasured for so long- _what_- it didn't, it didn't make sense. She couldn't breathe- and yet her body was so numb. _Please, Rumpelstiltskin- please! Don't let this be true!_

"This world was chosen because it doesn't have happy endings," the Queen narrowed her eyes as she stared Belle straight in the eyes. "And that's the same for _you_."

"No, no, no," Belle gasped, her eyes filling with tears. _Rumpelstiltskin please, if you can hear me, please come! I wish that you would come!_ She covered her face with her hands, the broken handle pressing into her face, leaning against the wall for support. Her knees were shaking, threatening to crumble underneath her.

_Please come_…

He wasn't coming. He wasn't coming to rescue her- to tell her that the Queen was wrong, that Belle was wrong for even believing it for a second, because, she was believing it. He wasn't coming, and she was believing. The glowing orb of joy dissipated entirely, leaving only shrieking despair. She was believing the Queen- it was logical- he wasn't coming.

Regina flicked something off of her dress, smoothing down the material before she looked up at Belle again, who was still trying to breathe. Trying to think. Trying desperately to keep her heart from shattering. It- it had to be a lie- but, he, the cup… he's smashed it? He wasn't coming, _he wasn't coming_.

The Queen's voice jarred her back outside herself, "Now, I need your assistance."

The tears that had been threatening to spill over were gone.

Belle only hated one person. Only one. And if it damned her to an eternity of hellfire, then she would hate her anyways. She looked up at the Queen with pure loathing in her voice, "You think that after this- after everything, that I would _ever_ help you?"

Regina smiled falsely, "Don't shoot the messenger, _dearie_," she crooned before her voice turned into a cackle.

"I still have decades of memories, _your majesty_," she spat the last words, "I remember what you did to me down in that dungeon. You're out of your mind if you think that I would do anything, _anything_ to help you!" she made to turn away, to leave, to find Rumpelstiltskin and demand an answer, to kiss him until he truly loved her, if that's what it took.

A hand slipped around her shoulders, forcing her to circle back around, "Not so fast," the Queen whispered in her ear, "Because you see I have a little leverage that you _might_ want to know about."

"Belle?" came a quavering voice out of the darkness before her.

"Papa!" Belle rushed forwards, hands searching until she found him, with manacles on his wrists. She clasped his hands as her eyes adjusted. "Oh your hands are like ice, we have to get you out of here," she whispered, looking back at the Evil Queen.

He bent his head towards her, "Belle, I want you to leave this place."

She shook her head, and reached to his forehead where there was old blood caked and dried, "Who's done this to you?" she asked, outraged.

"No time to explain- you must go, now-," he tried to shove her away.

"I won't leave you!" she told him fervently.

"And that's what I was hoping," Regina stepped forward, into view, "You're going to help me find what I'm looking for," her heels clicked as she neared them, "or I'm going to have your father killed." And Belle heard an ominous chuckle she knew all too well- the Black Knight. She quenched her gasp.

Belle whirled on her, eyes narrowed to see her through the blackness, "You promise that he will be safe if I agree?"

"If you promise to help me in my little venture," the Evil Queen smiled, raising an eyebrow optimistically.

Belle took a shuddering breathe, "You have my word."

"Done."

~: Nicholas :~

Ava had just told him it'd be a walk- just a little walk.

He hadn't expected that they would be walking half way across town. Dad was gone for the night, and Ava had said she just wanted to stretch her legs.

Everyone was at that ball, and so everyone was gone.

They ran around the streets, eating small powdered doughnuts they'd gotten from the pantry and drinking soda they'd stolen from the fridge in the garage. Having a dad was the best, except that they had bedtimes now. So while Dad was away, they decided to break away from it for a bit, just him and Ava, like old time.

They were skipping around a neighborhood, cramming their face and letting the crumbs fall all over the middle of the street when a car drove up. It was a big car, a black SUV. It was odd- because only adults drove cars, and all the adults were at that fancy dance that their father had had to rent a black suit for. Ava motioned for him to get behind a couple of trashcans, and Nicholas followed immediately. They'd done this a million times, sneaking. They were really good at it. Both of them peeked their heads around the corner, and saw a woman get out of the car. She was wearing a pretty dress, but Nicholas turned up his nose at her.

It was that mean lady that had wanted them to leave. The Mayor lady.

She opened the door behind hers, and then pulled out someone in a gold dress by their hair. It was long pretty brown hair- Nicholas knew who that was- The Mayor flung the girl to the ground. "That's Isabelle!" whispered Nicholas loudly.

"Shh!" Ava hushed him.

"Now go find it," the Mayor pointed to a big house.

"I told you, I don't know where it is!" Isabelle yelled, standing shakily.

"Get him out of the car," the Mayor lady waved for someone else. A scary man dressed in black heaved another, larger man out of the SUV. The man in black shoved the large, frightened man against the side of the car, pointing a gun at his head. Ava gasped in horror. Nicholas' eyes widened. It was just like a movie-

"No, Belle I won't let you do this!" the large man was yelling. "You don't have to do what she says!"

"You shut up," the Mayor spat, before rounding on Isabelle, "You will tell me where it is, or I'll have him shot."

The large man was protesting still, "Belle I'm old, I've lived my life-."

Isabelle cut him off, "He never told me where he hid it!"

"Then go in there and find it!" the Mayor grabbed her by the arm and flung her onto the front lawn of the big mansion house. Wasn't that where the sinister pawnshop guy lived?

Isabelle stood, now standing on the grass. Her face was determined, hard in the over head lamp light. "No," she said defiantly.

"Shoot him," the Mayor ordered.

The man in black shoved the large man down on the ground and pointed the gun again.

Isabelle's face filled with fear, stepping forward, "I don't know where-."

There was a blast that made Nicholas's ears ring in his head. The bellow of pain was the first thing he heard. Isabelle cried out. Nicholas watched as blood splurted all over the man's arm, where he'd been shot. Ava covered Nicholas's mouth, realizing that he'd been about to scream too.

"Papa!" Isabelle was yelling. "Papa!" She was trying to get to him, but the Mayor lady shoved her back onto the grass.

"You get in there, and you find it, or you'll never see your father again!"

Isabelle backed away slowly, before turning, hiking up her dress and running for the door of the sinister guy's house.

Ava was shaking, and Nicholas was still screaming into her hand. He stopped screaming, and pulled her hand away from his face. They ducked back behind the garbage cans.

"She's holding Isabelle's father hostage!" Ava whispered urgently.

"We have to do something!" Nicholas told her. "We've got to save Isabelle's dad like she saved ours!"

"I know!" Ava agreed, "But how?" Nicholas shook his head. He didn't know the answer. Ava was always the one who came up with the answers. She was the best big sister ever. She would know what to do. He just had to give her time to think. And then Ava's gaze fell on something behind him. She reached for it, and pulled into view a big rusty shovel. "I've got a plan!" she whispered, grabbing the handle, her eyes bright with her idea.

Nicholas liked the plan already.

**A/N: Um- um now, now hold on. Hold on! *puts hands up in surrender***

**Before the world goes haywire- YES, Regina is right! In order for Rumple to truly be in love he has to lose his magic. The show said so, and I want to run this kind of like the show (not that this is AU or anything at all) -**

**So, basically… no no, you're still freaking out. Stop it! Stop it! It's going to be ok! Mostly... **

**Hehe, review dearies. Your wrath is welcomed- because when I saw this coming I hated myself too, but it had to happen… And also, blame this last week's episode. You'll see why soon enough. **

**Ttfn, ta ta for now! **

**(PS- sorry for the uber long authors notes today. Don't know why. Maybe it's because I'm posting in the middle of the day, and not at night? I don't know…) **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Thank you- I know you're ready to murder me, so I'll explain a bit. **

***GLOMPS* YOU ARE THE BEST! Did you know that? YOU are! You reviewed- and it's amazing! I can't believe it! Already there have been over 40 reviews for this last chapter- well, now you'll be reviewing this chapter… but if this keeps up, I'll reach my goal! I did the math, (because I'm a nerd) and it's gonna take 44 reviews for each chapter… I know that's a lot, but I'm really hoping it happens! And you are making it possible! THANK YOU! **

**Also, *sidenote* I know, I'm not the best with grammatical errors. However, if this about my run on sentences, my frag sentences, my oddly lumpy paragraphs and my love (and misuse) of commas, I do it for a reason! For me, it's more about the flow of the story then the accuracy and proper grammar. However if it's stuff like **_**your**_** instead of **_**you're**_**, or that sort of thing, FORGIVE ME MY IMPUDENCE! That's something I LOATHE entirely! **

… **enough on that. **

**BY THE WAY, to those of you catching onto my references in my story, woohoo! The Hercules bit was a little harder to find, but, I'm glad you did. ;)**

**Right, back into the story we go! **

Chapter 30

~: Belle :~

Her papa was bleeding- out there, on the road- bleeding, bleeding, and she was stuck in here looking desperately, oh so desperately for the dagger, the gunshot still ringing in her ears. It was nowhere, nowhere to be found. Rumpelstiltskin had never told her about it. The only reason she knew of it was because of Henry's book. She had never given it much thought- but finding it now would be impossible- this was Rumpelstiltskin. If he didn't want it found, it wouldn't be found, no matter… no matter how hard she…

Her hands stopped frantically searching his study, which she'd basically ripped apart, to let herself shake. She shook as the fear, the anger overpowered her resolve not to cry, as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

She grabbed her middle, supporting herself up one handed on the desk of his study.

The whole room smelled of him, and of old books. Her two favorite smells in the world, and all she could do was soak them in, and cry.

He didn't love her.

But he _did_.

But he didn't truly love her.

_He loved her_.

It still wasn't true. He was still too much in love with his power.

_No_. No, he loved her, and that was enough. He could keep his magic. How much he loved her now was enough. It was enough.

It wasn't true love.

It would be enough. She would let it be enough.

_He doesn't love you. _

_ He does!_ She felt herself shouting at that inward doubt, felt herself sob hoarsely as she pushed away from the desk, and felt something digging into her hand that she had been clutching tightly. It was the handle to their tea cup.

_ He smashed the tea cup._

_ A lie._

_ You're lying to yourself._

She shook her head, grabbing it with both of her hands, _Just- just go away!_

_ "Go away"? I am you! _

_ No… no… _she felt herself stumbled, toppling over, arms wrapped around herself as she sobbed. She was lying to herself. She was lying, and she had believed, oh she had believed that he loved her. He did love her. He had taken care of her from the moment he had known she was alive. He loved her. He had shown it in so many ways… how could it be possible that he didn't love her, truly? Was his power more to him then her?

_But how could I have broken the curse?_ She wanted to know.

There was no reply to that.

_How could I have broken the first part of the curse if he didn't truly love her? _

_ I always said love it layered. Maybe…, maybe true love is layered too_?

How can true love be layered?

There was a shout outside the house. Belle's ears perked up, and she looked to the door as another muffled yell was heard- where they hurting her papa to make her-?

There was a gunshot.

Belle was down the stairs of the house before she could begin to breathe, the sound filtering out of her ears as though she were underwater. The front door was already open from where she'd broken in. And before her, down the lawn, she saw Ava, and little Nicholas- Ava wielding a large, metal shovel, and edging near a backing away Regina. Belle saw the man who had shot her father passed out on the asphalt, gun feet away from him.

"Go away!" Ava was yelling at the Mayor, who had her hands up in surrender.

Belle watched as Nicholas went to help her papa to his feet. He swayed where he stood, clutching his wounded arm. Belle didn't rush to his side though. Hiking up her ridiculous dress, she ran straight to Ava.

"Put the weapon down," Regina was telling Ava slowly. "Or I'm going to have to-."

"Give me the shovel, Ava," Belle said fiercely, holding out a hand for it. Ava gave it to her when she recognized Belle. Belle held it in shaking hands. She'd only ever hated one person.

Regina's eyes narrowed. "Don't you even-."

Belle whacked the Evil Queen hard enough to send her slamming into the car, and she tumbled onto the curb. Belle wished she had aimed better, realizing too late that she hadn't hit her in the head. The groan of agony that escaped the Queen's lips was enough to realize they had limited time.

"Run!" Belle spun on them, throwing down the shovel to turn and flee. Her father and Nicholas were already hobbling away down the street. "No!" she shouted at them. "No, in the house!" They turned to look at her in stunned surprise as she all but tossed Ava onto the grass. Her papa limped around, using little Nicholas as a crutch. Belle moved swiftly to their side as Ava yelled at her brother to hurry up. Behind Belle she heard the Queen stir.

She took Nicholas's place, pushing him up the lawn to the house, before shouldering her father's weight as they stepped onto Rumpelstiltskin's grass. His property. They would be safe there. Both children were on the house's front porch, yelling at them to hurry up as her father moved at a maddeningly slow pace. She felt his hot blood on her side, soaking into her golden dress. She could only hope that there wasn't enough of it leaving him that he could die. The weapon, that gun, had been so much scarier in real life in comparison to television's version of it. She hoped she never had to encounter it again.

"She's moving!" Ava shrieked as they reached the stairs.

Belle knew she had to buy her father more time. If the Evil Queen started using magic there was no hope for them. "Go, Papa-," she told him as he grasped the stair rail with his good arm. "Nicholas- call the police! Call Emma-!" The little boy nodded solemn before sprinting to retrieve the inside telephone.

"Belle, _wait_!" her father ordered as she let go of him, grabbing at her frailly.

She pushed away from him, and spun around, hurrying down the lawn, stumbling over the ridiculous dress as she saw the Evil Queen dragging herself to the distance between herself and the unconscious Black Knight. Belle stooped to pick up the shovel in a swift movement, not breaking stride. If she had to finish off-

The Evil Queen flipped on her back, pointing something at Belle. Belle stopped midstride, stumbling back as an evil smile flashed across her antagonist's face.

A blast shred through Belle- her leg exploded in pain.

With a cry Belle fell backwards, the impact of the ground waking her from blackness that threatened to take over as her head spun.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

Fury ripped through him, awakening him.

Around him he heard glass windows shattering, heard yells of terror.

He was lithe, on his feet before he was even a second conscious, sheer energy pulsing through him, into the atmosphere around him.

Something had happened-

They had drugged him, knocked him out. Broken the tea cup.

Dr. Whale was there before him, struggling to undo the lock on the door, looking back frantically as Rumpelstiltskin's eyes narrowed as he focused on him. Instantly he was between the doctor and the door, a cruel smile on his face. The doctor shrieked, stumbling backwards, away from him, stepping on broken glass and slipping.

This pathetic excuse for a human being had set his plans back. The curse might lose its potential to be broken because of this idiot. He would have to wait ages while little baby Emma figured out that she was the key to unlock the curse, while he would have to wait to make Belle's wishes to come true because there was _no way_ in _any_ of the seven hells he was raising children in this forsaken world- this meat sack was going to feel all of his unadulterated wrath.

Rumpelstiltskin advanced, slowly, menacingly, energy still pulsing in waves around him, "I remember promising someone the next time I whacked you with my cane, you would die." Rumpelstiltskin raised a hand, his face darkening, "And I intend to keep that promise."

Threads were beginning to attach to him, now that he was awake. Wishes at this time, after he'd been sedated by this ingrate? He made an annoyed noise-

And then he felt a new wish, a one from a- _RUMPELSTILTSKIN! PLEASE!_

Belle- what had awoken him- he remembered the desperate cry-

_Belle_!

He was gone in an instant, and there she was, in front of him, being hauled to her feet by her Majesty- red staining her golden dress. Red- her bright blue eyes lighting up at the sight of him, but her beautiful face was marred with agony. He looked to see Regina, baring her teeth at him in a grin.

Before he could crack open his lips they were gone, in a whirl of black and purple smoke, leaving him standing in the street, emptied handed and thwarted. With a roar of rage the ground split, fissures in the earth that broke apart the road- the ground rumbled underneath him, and he heard screams from the direction of his house. He turned and saw Hansel, Gretel, and Belle's father tottering down the way- but he had stumbled, fallen.

In a flash he was standing over Moe French, hauling him up by the collar of his now ruined suit. "What happened?"

The man was in shock, spluttering incoherently. He didn't have time for this. He didn't have time for a baffled man who could barely string two words together. He raised his hand-.

"Mr. Gold! He was shot!" It was the little girl, little Gretel, running to his side to defend Mr. French. "Isabelle told us we'd be safe in your house so- that's why we broke in- well actually she broke in-."

He didn't care for details. He shoved his face back into Moe's. "What does the Queen want with Belle?" he demanded. "Answer me!"

"Y-y-ou broke a deal with the Mayor," Moe fumbled out. "I don't know about any Queen-."

No, no _no_! Rumpelstiltskin threw the man back down on the ground, stalking away. This could not be happening right now. In an instant his mind searched for Belle- for her wishes, for her pleas-

There she was, amid the forest in a grove, panting-

_Belle_ –

_Rumpelstiltskin- don't- don't come_. His lovely, little Belle had always been clever- hadn't even asked what was going on with the telecommunication link he'd forged. It was hard to keep up- concentration was everything. To share a mind was to share all thoughts, and to keep up a conversation under such circumstances.

And his lovely little Belle had always been self sacrificing.

He was before her, striding towards her –

"Take another step and I'll shoot." His eyes rounded on the Queen, peering at her through the gloom of the trees. Opened his mouth, "Say a word, and it's the same."

He spoke anyways, "Don't-."

A bang shattered his sentence. Belle's scream of pain as fresh blood pooled around her hand where she clutched her wound- renewed tears running down her face- her wishes in his head that the agony would stop – _please make it end!_

Sheer energy slammed outwards- hit an invisible barrier assuredly created by the Queen with a faint purple sizzle- the energy pushed through the grove, tearing trees out by their roots, crashing down as the earth split open around the barrier, not entering it, a fork of lightning down from the sky, aiming where the Queen stood, and the barrier blocked it – blocked it all. The cracking sound of electricity splitting the air was deafening- and for all his magic he couldn't save her, couldn't do a thing. He wanted to roar, but he didn't dare utter a sound, not if it hurt her. He shouldn't have come. He was killing her- she was lying there, on the ground, and he could not lift a finger to help her. He had always been the pain, and she the healing- but when the healing was in pain what could the pain do but make it worse?

"Now do I have your attention, Rumple?" the Queen asked, raising an eyebrow as she cocked the gun again. Rumpelstiltskin narrowed his seething eyes at her, but didn't dare do anything else, remaining entirely motionless as the Queen smiled, "You will retrieve your dagger, and you will bring it back to me, within twenty minutes, unless, of course, you want your precious little Belle to die."

"_Don't_- don't do it-," Belle gasped and Rumpelstiltskin's eyes immediately snapped to her face. She arched her neck to look at him from where she lay on the forest floor, her bright eyes focused on him. But they weren't bright with exquisite joy anymore- they were bright with torment. "Don't give it to her Rumpel—stil-."

Regina overrode her, stepping closer to her, loaded gun always pointed at her, so that Rumpelstiltskin's heart stuck in his throat, and he almost allowed himself to lurch forward in fear, "Think of it as your gift to me, as your new master." She smiled at him, and he felt himself loathing her more than anything- the dagger. With that dagger, she could make him do anything. Anything. He would slaughter everyone in Storybrooke with his bare hands if she ordered him to- he would kill Belle if she commanded it. But if he did not bring it back to the Queen, she would kill Belle anyways. Why did Belle have to be the one to die? Why her, why the sunlight?

"No!" Belle exclaimed, disrupting his silent war, a war where no one could win.

Regina kicked her in the stomach, not particularly hard, but enough that Belle cried out, crumpling into herself to gasp. Rumpelstiltskin clamped his hands into fists, locking his muscles to keep himself from retaliating, but the earth still shook underneath his feet.

"I would hurry if I were you Rumple. You only have 19 minutes left on the clock," Regina grinned, her finger curling around the trigger. Rumpelstiltskin looked at Belle's curled form on the ground the way she took deep slow breathes. He couldn't see her face, only her bare shoulders, only the curve of her slender neck, the tumble of brown curls. "And if you want any hope of her living, you'd better hurry," the Queen's words pierced him. He stared at her as one of her sickening smiles crossed her face, "I think she's going to bleed to death before your 19 minutes are up."

He was gone in an instant.

~: Emma :~

Emma tapped her foot in annoyance as she waited for Mary Margret, David, August and most importantly Henry to emerge from whatever meeting was taking place down that dumb corridor. She had been asked to leave. It was truly obnoxious.

Her phone rang. She'd been lucky enough to have been holding her purse. She normally loathed purses but, how else was she supposed to carry her phone? It wouldn't look good wedged into her bra.

"Hello, this is Sheriff Swan," she answered irately.

The little voice on the other end was frantic, "Emma! Emma- He was shot- and then she shot Isabelle- and she told us to call you, and we didn't save her! She saved our dad but we couldn't save - but Emma, he's not looking good- he's pale-."

"Whoa whoa, slow down there-," Emma turned from the party to face the corridor, "Nicholas?" she guessed, remembering Michael Tillman's kid, "Who was shot?"

"Isabelle and her dad!" Nicholas answered, his voice shrill.

"Do you know who shot them?" Emma asked calmly. She had to keep him talking. He sounded like he was going into shock.

"The Mayor lady- the one who wanted us to go to foster care," Nicholas told her.

Regina- shot? Isabelle and Moe? She swallowed that, and inquired as coolly as she could, "Alright, where are you now?"

"We're at Mr. Gold's house. Isabelle said it'd be safe here," he sounded like he was gulping air. She could picture both his little hands on the phone, clutching it to his ear.

"Is Isabelle talking?" Emma wanted to know, looking for her leather jacket- she'd left it somewhere near this corner.

"No- the Mayor took her away!" Nicholas was sounding hysterical again.

"Alright, it's ok. I'm coming," if she could find her blasted jacket, "How about Mr. French?"

"He's talking- not very much though." Regina had Isabelle, but she didn't have Moe. Good to know. The question was, where would that witch take her?

Hang the jacket. She would run around in this stupid dress and freeze to death, "Ok, I'm going to call the hospital and have an ambulance pick up -," she stopped short, gasping as Mr. Gold's face, enraged and terrifying, was suddenly in hers.

"You're coming with me, dearie," he said silkily, pressing the off button on her phone.

Emma recovered, "What the-!"

Mr. Gold interrupted her, grabbing her by the arms and looking over her shoulder, "Where are their Majesties?" There was something seriously off, despite his mask of calm, there was a storm raging in his features nothing could hide. Emma could tell if someone was lying.

He hadn't been there two seconds ago, "How did you just-?"

"I don't have time to explain to your weak little mind, now," he snarled, all façade of regular self gone, "Tell me where they are!"

Emma pushed away, waving a hand between them, "I'm not going to tell you anything-."

"Rumpelstiltskin!" it was Henry, rushing up from behind her.

"What happened?" Mary Margret came out, holding her dress so elegantly that Emma wondered if she'd been classically trained.

"I need you to distract her," Mr. Gold told them.

"Distract who?" Emma wanted to know angrily. She was sick of these stupid codes, and since when had Mr. Gold responded to Rumpelstiltskin?

"Where is she?" Mary Margret asked fiercely, with a confidence Emma had never seen, but she had always known Mary Margret had in her.

"Here." He poked each of their foreheads, Henry's, Mary Margret's, David's, and August's, saving Emma's for last. Emma saw an image she'd never seen before just as his finger made contact. A grove- Regina with a gun- and then she saw directions- in the blink of an eye she knew exactly where Regina was with that gun. And if she'd shot Isabelle, Emma finally would have an excuse to put her behind bars permanently. That made her smile, even if it was a vindictive.

"She wants the dagger, doesn't she?" Henry asked urgently, startling Mr. Gold. "You can't let her have it!"

He latched onto Emma again, "Emma," he said, his dark, swirling eyes serious and utterly terrifying, "I need you to get past your insignificant quandaries and step up _now_," his voice was thick with emotion, "You have to kill her- _You_ do."

Emma _still_ didn't know who they were talking about, "Kill who?"

"Regina," he answered, and he didn't leave her a moment to let her balk, "She's going to take something from me, and along with that will go my will. If you want your precious little world to survive, you'll kill her." What kind of thing would make anybody do something like that? Drugs? Mr. Gold was a drug addict? Now that she thought of it, it was plausible.

"Why don't I just kill you now?" she wanted to know, her eyes narrowing, liking the thought of killing him almost as much as she liked the thought of killing Regina, "Stop you from hurting anybody?"

He detached himself from her, bending his head away, "She'll kill her-."

"She's got Belle?" Henry shouted, and grabbed onto Emma, "We have to go!" he yelled, tugging at her.

It took Emma two seconds to remember that Regina did indeed have Isabelle. That Nicholas Tillman had called to tell her – It was true.

"Alright-," Emma said, shaking Henry off, and looked back to Mr. Gold, "You get somewhere safe, alright? I'll handle this."

His laugh was enough to chill the entire hall. He looked at her again, his eyes half crazed as he smiled at her crookedly, "'You'll handle this?'" he sneered, "You don't even believe in your own tale, Ms. Swan. You expect me to leave this all in your pathetic, noble hands?"

And with that he was gone.

Gone.

Not as in walked away, not as in exited stage left. He disappeared. Vanished right from view without so much as a puff of smoke.

"He- he just-!" Emma pointed to where Mr. Gold had been like a split second ago.

"Right, we know," August told her in a soothing voice, wrapping her leather jacket around her, an arm looping behind her and pushing her towards the exit.

~: Regina the Evil Queen :~

The girl hadn't been lying when she'd called herself brave all those years ago. She wasn't whining, or groveling, pleading with her to let her go. She never had before, but this was different. She had never actually caused the girl this kind of physical harm before, hadn't wanted to really. She saw no point in harming the girl, didn't really have time for it. That and Belle had needed her in perfect condition so that Rumpelstiltskin would follow her willingly, and in good faith. Well, now, good faith meant nothing if she had his dagger. He couldn't rebel with that in her clutches.

"The question is," Regina said aloud, tapping the gun against her cheek, "Why are you still hoping he won't give me his dagger? He doesn't love you, you know."

"He- loves me," the little creature made an effort to turn her face to stare up, her eyes shining with not only tears, but with- was there still determined hope in that glare? Regina felt like shooting her again just because the child had the nerve to look at her like that. She satisfied herself by kicking her instead.

The corresponding choking groan was enough to placate her. Regina fell back into counting the moments until Rumple's return. It had been 8 minutes. A lot of time it was taking for someone who could teleport places immediately. It was of no consequence. His Belle was bleeding to death as it was, and it wasn't like she was going to allow Belle to live after she got the dagger. Love was his downfall. He was just new pet to leash.

"He loves me more than you- know," the girl was speaking again, though it was costing her energy. The impudence-.

Regina crouched down next to her, picking her head up by her hair. The girl winced in pain. "He's going to kill you, you know," Regina told her, a sweet mixture of malice in her voice, "He's going to be the one to carve out your heart, with that little handle that you clutch so dearly. He's going to give your heart to me on a silver platter, and pitch your head up on a pike in front of his house. You're going to be dead, and it's going to be because of him."

"No," the girl spat, "It's going to be- because of you. You're going- to tell him to kill me- once you have the dagger."

"What? No fleeting hope that you're terrified face will stop him?" while Regina was taunting she was also surprised. That's what she had suspected, was that this pathetic thing would hope for Rumpelstiltskin to fight the dagger's will. It was a false hope of course.

"No," she answered simply, though breathlessly, looking at the ground with a set face, "The curse on him is all encompassing," the thing was sounding like a fish out of water, "- He w-will be forced to do as you say. I know the parameters of his curse," her eyes flicked to meet Regina's again, "But it- will be _you_- that killed me."

Regina raised her eyebrows, "So you've already accepted that no matter what happens tonight, that you're going to die?"

"Yes," Belle smiled bravely, "And he won't- he won't come with his dagger."

"Why? Because you've been wishing it?" Regina simpered falsely, "Don't forget, dearie, I know him too."

Belle looked her straight in the eye, "No, you don't."

Regina snarled at that, shoving her head down and ground it into the dirt, before standing again to search the now tarnished forest around her as the first drop of rain sizzled on the barrier.

_Where was he_? She thought viciously, looking into the tree line. _Why wasn't he there yet_?

**A/N: Belle has been shot. Twice. Is now dying. **

** Emma is being forced to do her part in all this madness. **

** Rumple is who knows where? **

** And, YOU dearie, are still freaking out. **

** I did explain the whole problem with the true love. It's layered. Belle is always right, by the way. If you haven't noticed that yet… ;) Have a lovely day! I'll probably post tomorrow in honor of the wonderful Hatter. Hopefully he will be all we hope for, yes? **

**I'm making a cover for this book- I draw too, btw. Um, so I figured, after writing 250+ pages, I'm aloud to make a cover, right? If anyone has ideas on that, I'm open to them! I'm also hoping to make a playlist (because I write to music like nobody's business), and all suggestions are welcome, as usual! I love listening to all the music selections- they really broaden my horizons!**

**And please review! Last time I got 50 reviews! Which is absolutely phenomenal! YOU are phenomenal! Thank you for helping me reach my goal! **


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: It is Monday, right? ;) anyone been waiting? **

**YOU GUYS! YOU FILLED THE FIRST QUOTA! Filled it to the brim and then some! **

**AHHH LET ME LOVE YOU! Thank you so so SO much! If we keep up this rate, then we can make it to 1000! **

**AND TO THOSE WHO KEEP TELLING ME I SHOULD WRITE PROFESSIONALLY YOU ARE THE ABSOLUTE BEST! You guys really flatter me! **

… **ehem, enough ridiculousness I suppose… and most definitely enough capitals. **

**Moving on! **

**What did you think of the Hat Trick? Mad Swan shippers anyone? I don't know, I'm still on the fence (because I just LOVE Alice and Hatter combo, but I don't think I would mind if Mad Swan came to pass- ok, let's be honest, I'd love it! But! I reserve judgment until further notice- what do you think?)**

**Haha- yes! Trading Yesterday's She is the Sunlight. I think I like that song for them A LOT! **

**BE WARNED – don't hate Emma. She's awesome, and such… even if what happens happens because- well, I'll let you read. :) have fun dearie! **

Chapter 31

~: Emma :~

"Why can't I drive?" Emma demanded from the passenger's seat as her bug sped down the road. They'd left the ball only moments ago, and they were already more than halfway to their destination, if the map in Emma's head was anything to go by. If it was. Was is even real? She wasn't sure, she'd never even been to this place before and here she was being forced to sit shotgun while the town stranger bulleted his way down the road.

August glanced at her sideways from his position in the driver's seat, keeping both hands firmly on the wheel, "Because you're freaking out right now."

Emma was furious, "There's a potential murderer on the loose and you're not letting me drive."

There was a hand on her shoulder, "Calm down, Emma, it's ok," Mary Margret told her.

"I am calm! Look at me be calm!" Emma motioned to herself angrily, "Regina turns out to be a murdering bi- _witch_," editing for Henry at a time like this took concentration, "and I can't even drive over to lock her up in my own car!" It was true. This was her case. She was supposed to go and find Regina in the woods within the next ten minutes, and then she was supposed to kill her, according to Mr. Gold. Which of course she wouldn't do. Being an officer of the law didn't allow you to kill somebody. Mr. Gold should know that, being a lawyer and all. "And will somebody please tell me how Mr. Gold just disappeared like that because -."

"It was magic, Emma," Henry inserted. Henry sat in between Mary Margret and David in the back. Emma hadn't wanted him to go, but when he'd insisted, and put up a fuss, wasting time that they didn't have they had let him come. They didn't have time to argue. Isabelle could be dying.

"Magic isn't real!" Emma shouted at him. It wasn't. It wasn't. It couldn't be because it wasn't.

David spoke up darkly, "Magic is very real, and very powerful."

This was ridiculous. Everyone had just decided to jump on Henry's bandwagon now and accept reality as a fairy tale? They were all as mad as a hatter! "And now you're going to tell me that true love's kiss is the answer to everyone's problems."

"It is!" Henry beamed.

"Everyone," August told them, his voice a growl, "It's hard enough driving this little car without everyone yelling."

"I can drive," Emma offered again.

August glowered out of the windshield as rain drops began to pelt against it, frustrated, "We're almost there it would be pointless."

"You're going too slow," And he was. It was a snail's pace compared to how fast she would be going if she had the chance.

"Emma," David said sharply.

He sounded like he was scolding a child. What right did he have? She turned around in her seat to glare at him, "What?"

Mary Margret put a hand on his arm, "Don't scold her, she doesn't even know."

This little war council or whatever they'd had in the back room? Yeah, she was sick of it, all the encoded whatever it was. She couldn't stand it, "I don't know what?" Everyone stared at her, except for August, sitting in stunned silence at her outrage. When no one said a word, she inhaled sharply and started fumbling with her seat belt, "You know what? That's it! Let me out of this car!"

"Emma!" it was August who shouted, grabbing at her hands and forcing her fingers to stop. She looked up at him, but he was still watching the road, "Focus! You're solving a case. Your friend has been shot. We're out to find her. Stop thinking about everything else- you're helping a friend."

Emma sat back in her seat, and August released her hands. She watched the world blur in the rain outside, and felt the chill of reality trickling down her spine like the droplets of water from the car.

"Don't worry Emma," Henry told her. "You can save her."

"You will save everyone," Mary Margret sounded so reverent.

~: Belle :~

_Don't come, Rumpelstiltskin, I wish that you wouldn't come_.

_I wish that you won't come. _

_I wish that you won't come. _

_I wish that you won't come. _

_I wish… _

She was losing train of thought. Everything seemed painted in broad, grayscale strokes around her.

She had to escape.

If she escaped Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't come back to succumb. He couldn't give her the dagger. If he did- she had said she was willing to let him kill her. She just didn't know if – if… he would ever recover from it. Killing her. Killing anyone.

The image in her head- Rumpelstiltskin swathed in a dark cloak, hooded, blood dripping from his dagger and a smile slipping over his face, a twisted, cruel smile with blood seeping from it. A demon- where the evil had taken a hold, the roots growing and flourishing from the depths of darkness until he was tangled in it, too thickly woven into the trunk to be separated from it. He would be lost forever.

No- his soul- he would lose his soul- and she didn't know if she could bare that thought. She had to make sure he never lost sight- his soul was too precious to her.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and began to drag herself away. Pain tore up her side, like her skin was splitting in two and she collapsed with a gasp, wrapping her arm around her wound. As she pulled it away, found it covered with blood. Her blood. She grimaced.

If she was going to die it was not going to die aiding the Queen's evil.

Swallowing, she made to pull herself away again.

A foot pressed into her back, a spike driving into her spine, pressing her into the dirt.

Regina's voice came from overhead, "Move and die."

Belle moved.

A gunshot pierced the air, and Belle felt the heat of the bullet on her face as it buried itself in the ground next to her. Belle smiled arrogantly, "You're not going to kill me," Belle coughed a laugh, "You're going to wait for him to come."

"Try me."

Belle tried.

Her true logic was if she was already dead, Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't come. His soul would remain.

Another bullet lodged in the soil.

"You're going- to run out- of bullets," Belle informed her breathily after the third time.

She could hear Regina's scowl, "Fine. You go ahead. Make a run for it. I won't stop you."

Belle was surprised, didn't really pick up on the sarcasm coherently, and asked, "The barrier going to shock me?" She was thinking of the rain drops sizzling against the barrier.

"No, actually, it lets living things through it," the Queen told her, removing her foot from Belle's back. "So you have a free pass. Go ahead. Run," she bent to sneer, "Run away and never return."

Belle gritted her teeth, and found herself struggling to breathe, let alone move. Her side was still throbbing too violently, but if she kept Regina talking, maybe she could distract her enough so she wouldn't notice… "Why- aren't you using magic?" Magic to kill her, magic to stop her. Why had she used bullets when she could maim almost as easily with magic if she wished.

"It wastes energy I'm going to need," Regina said dismissively.

Belle snickered vindictively, "Out- of practice?"

That obviously offended her. "Not as rusty as Rumple. Honestly that lightning bolt was rather pathetic. He is quite an old sorcerer. Couldn't you have gone with someone who wasn't old enough to be your father?"

Belle smiled at that. In the realm of the Enchanted Forest he was much older than that, "He terrifies you," she informed her. "You wouldn't want his dagger if he didn't."

"Well, one can always use a faithful slave," the Queen was dismissive again. But Belle knew better. Belle pulled herself a bit forward.

"He was always- the stronger of the two of you," Belle dug her fingers into the ground as she tried to drag herself away, and gave up as she screamed soundlessly as the wound in her leg was enough to stop her. She had to pant to finish her thought, turning her head to stare up with one eye at the Queen out of the corner of her eye, "You're- never- going to beat him. Face it-, Regina, you're still just- second best."

The Queen seemed to consider this for a moment. "You're right. His power does exceed my own. But not for long," and Belle watched the sickening smile slip over her face. "He'll soon be under my thumb, and you, my dear, will be under the ground. Remember, _I_ run this town." She stepped around Belle to get a good look at her from the front, "Honestly, I'm surprised you're still conscious. I would have thought you would be dead by now. It has been twelve minutes, and that hole in you is pretty fatal."

"I'm- more stubborn-, than I, look," Belle laughed into the ground.

To think, her last conversation in the world would be with the one person she hated.

She had to stop a moment, to concentrate on breathing.

To concentrate on wishing.

_I wish that you won't come._

_I wish that you won't come_.

She felt herself fading fast. Now that she thought about it, she wanted to fade. She needed to fade. She should be dead already. If she were dead, it meant that Rumpelstiltskin wouldn't give up his dagger to the Queen. Being dead would be easier- much easier…

But-

She was still so selfishly clinging to the hope that she would see his face one last time. Hear his voice, the lilt, when he spoke, see that mysterious spark in his dark eyes- it was all she wanted, all she wish-

_No._

_I wish that you won't come._

_I wish that you won't come._

_I wish- I wish that- I wish…_

~: James :~

Running had always been his strong suit. However, the clothing he had been wearing was not conducive to it. He had stripped himself of the overcoat and tie as they had run into the woods, though he wasn't as bad off as his Snow, who was having a time of it in her ball gown. Emma had merely torn off the bottom half of her dress with a knife. Snow's material was too thick, and they didn't have the time.

"This way," he motioned to the side, where the directions in his head pointed. He band of troops followed as they jogged their way down a slope, Henry stumbling at his side, Emma and the others not far behind.

Just as he started to climb again, he heard Snow yell.

James stopped dead to look back as Snow made to get up from where she'd tripped. Made to go back-

Snow looked up at him, a leaf in her now short hair. "Go ahead!" Snow yelled at him through the rain, "Take Emma and go!" she restated when he started back anyways, and August helped her to her feet.

James nodded, though this was too familiar- the scene in his head replayed, where they'd been racing against time, and he had had to leave Snow alone to take Emma to the tree trunk. He could see in her eyes that she was remembering too.

"It won't be like last time," she vowed, her green gaze firm, true, never wavering.

He nodded once, before turning to Emma, who nodded also, before slipping off her strappy shoes and tossing them into the woods. He burst into a run, Emma on his heels, and Henry, little Henry, surprisingly keeping up with them. The boy was a quick runner.

The scene in his head was so familiar it was eerie. Rumpelstiltskin had always been eerie, though, and manipulative. The map was obvious even in the utter darkness and cold rain.

"How do- you know- we're not- going in- circles?" Emma wanted to know irritably as she panted.

"You know as- well as I do," he said more smoothly.

"Guys, no time to argue!" Henry was pulling ahead.

That was his grandson running a few strides before him, his face determined. James picked up the pace, dodging between trees, and watched Emma leap over a log next to him, her gun in hand as her arms pumped her forward.

His family. All uniting to stop evil again.

This time it would work. They would stop the Evil Queen in time.

They were closing in-

And James saw the trees ripped up by their roots, the wreckage that was the ground-

"She's there!" Henry exclaimed, pointing at the center of the clearing.

James cursed his thoughtless running into the scene without a plan, but there was nothing to do about it now. Henry had given away their position. He'd have to teach him battle strategy.

The Evil Queen turned to face them as the trio slid to a stop several feet away. She narrowed her eyes as Emma pointed her gun at her. "Ah, so I see Rumple sent the cavalry ahead of him," her eyes flickered from Emma, to James, to Henry, who was holding a kitchen knife, and back to James again, who felt entirely useless without a weapon in hand.

He spotted a rumpled mass of golden fabric and brown curls lying on the ground. There was Belle- she was so still behind the slightly visible barrier between them. Were they already too late?

"David, darling, you look completely soaked." The Queen's voice jarred James back.

"It's not David anymore," James shouted, stepping forward towards the barrier. "Your curse over me is broken!"

The Evil Queen's eyes widened in shock, the dark pools lancing with loathing. She bared her teeth at him, and pointed her gun at him.

"Put the gun down, Regina!" Emma yelled, stepping forward slowly, her gun pointed directly at their opponent. "Or I'll shoot."

"Shoot away," Regina smiled at her. "See how much good it will do."

James clenched his teeth at her, helpless. What had Rumpelstiltskin expected them to do against the likes of her, if Emma's gun wouldn't work?

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He was racing against time. Precious time. Belle's precious time.

He couldn't just magically appear next to the dagger. The moment he'd had his magic back, the moment he'd been capable of being hurt or manipulated by the dagger again, he'd hidden it. Hidden it with a sarcastic flourish, and now he was regretting it.

He'd hidden it before, but it had more been for the sake of hiding it, and less of the fact that it needed to be kept secret, or safe. After Belle had restored his magic, he'd buried it, a dragon hiding the penetrable part to his scales. Kept it secret, kept it safe.

_I wish that you won't come_. Belle- her wishes. He shook this one off as he had the last several that had been trying to thread their way in within the last few minutes. She should know that he was coming, no matter how hard she wished. He would come for her.

The dagger was not in his house. An obvious place to hide it. Regina had been dismally unimaginative to think that he would hide it there.

_I wish that you won't come. _

The dagger was not at his store. He was not about to put it on display in one of his glass cases.

_I wish- that you won't come_. The stutter in the wish- her thoughts were getting jumbled- _no_.

The clock tower had always seemed like an ironic place to hide it. Right next to where the power of the curse stemmed from.

_I wish that you won't come_. Strong wishing- that was his lovely Belle, pushing through.

It was hidden though, a thick enchantment that laced through the door, the door Belle and Henry had tried to batter down. To think he'd only denied Belle access a few days ago- to think he'd been allowed to be near her with a free will, and he'd ignored her for so many days, just to put a plan together that had fallen through. Now, cornered-

_I wish that you won't come_.

Finally he disentangled the spell, and leapt through the door that wasn't really a door at all- it was more portal than anything else, interlaced with the workings of the clock tower. It was his curse at work at it's finest. And he hated it.

_I wish that you won't come_.

He didn't need to search. He'd only placed it there a few days- or was it weeks, now? Time was too fast- only a few short weeks with his Belle- but no. He couldn't afford to think like that. The dagger was the only way for her to live. His dagger rested in a chest near the cogs, a black onyx wood box-

_I wish- you won't- come. Don't come._

He retrieved it.

Belle- her wishes were still streaming to him, and if nothing he was grateful for them. It meant she was alive. He knew her wishing more than anyone else's. He was tethered to her, now, a thick cord of communion that would never snap- not unless- Belle, and her inability to thread coherent thoughts together. She was losing this battle, and yet she still struggled to fight it. _Fight it, Belle, fight_. But how could he tell her to fight when he was too afraid to- while he stood there, shaking- terrified- if the royal family hadn't come- he wouldn't stand a chance, and he couldn't weave magic in the area without Regina lashing out- he would have to go in blind-

_I wish that you won't come. Please don't come. Please_- the last sounded a sob, and he had to stop himself from choking on the noise. Belle- his lovely little Belle, lying there-

He shook off her wishes of him not coming. He was coming. He would come for her. And hopefully the royal family was there as well by now. If they were then maybe all his labors hadn't gone to waste.

_I wish you won't come_.

_Too bad, dearest. I am coming._

~: Henry :~

He had seen it the instant they'd entered the clearing, but he had to let Emma know now, just in case, "The barrier!" Henry shouted, tugging on Emma's arm, "Emma don't! It'll just ricochet off!"

"What barrier?" Emma wanted to know, still aiming at the Queen's head. She was strong enough that he could pull on her arm and she could still shake him off without her gun wavering. His mom was so cool.

"The magical one- it's purple- you can see it if you look really hard!" he gestured at it.

Emma nodded once without looking away, "I see it."

Henry beamed. His mom was accepting it! Accepting that magic was real! Finally!

There was a voice, a new voice that startled all of them, "Technology- technology disrupts magic!"

Belle!

Henry looked down with a ray of hope. She was pushing herself to her elbows, looking up at him through her hair, at Emma with dirt and blood on her face._ Blood_, Henry blanched, "The gun- should work- shoot her!"

Emma glanced at her, before focusing on Regina again.

"Shoot- her!" Belle yelled, trembling where she lay.

"Regina," Emma said, adjusting slightly. She was anxious, "We don't need for this to get out of hand- put your gun down now and nobody gets hurt."

"Listen to the little Sheriff, trying to save everyone," the Queen simpered, "Don't you know, Emma? That nobody ever wins? It's just an endless cycle of losing- it's just your turn to lose!" she pointed her gun at Belle.

Behind him Henry heard Snow White gasp- they had finally caught up, but he was too angry to look and confirm what he heard.

_No_. It wasn't Good's turn to lose. They'd been losing for 28 years. "No!" he yelled, grabbing Regina's attention. Her dark eyes glared into his soul, and he only let his soul shine. Light repelled darkness. "Your reign is over, your Majesty!" Henry shouted. "Let Belle go!"

She looked hurt. An act. "Henry, I'm your mother-."

He cut her off, "No! Emma is my mother! And you're the wicked witch that tore my family apart! But now we're together, and there's no stopping us." He was done with being separated from people he loved by her- everything was going to change now. Emma just had to shoot the Evil Queen- and then- was that how the curse was supposed to be broken? With Regina's death by a bullet?

"No one, but Rumpelstiltskin," smiled Regina, "I assume he's told you about the situation?"

"Shoot her now Emma!" Belle cried to her in desperation.

The dagger. Regina could not get her hands on that dagger. She would destroy everyone in her path- Rumpelstiltskin would even kill Belle if Regina had the dagger and ordered him to. "You're not getting it!"

"Do it!" Belle shrieked, tears streaming down her face. "Do it, he's coming!"

"I can't," Emma growled, and Henry looked to find her quivering, the gun in her hand wavering. She shook herself to try and steady it, but Regina laughed a shrill .

"I have my bargaining chip again, princeling, and I will do with her as I will until I have my prize," Regina stepped onto Belle's back with her high heel, and Belle slumped to the ground, the weight too much for her to bear.

"Regina-," Emma's voice quavered, "Don't do it. Don't hurt her."

Why wouldn't Emma just shoot her? Henry wanted to yell at her, to tell her that Regina was evil through and through and that she shouldn't be hesitating.

"_I_ don't plan on hurting anyone. It's not _me_ that you should be worried about." Regina smiled, and looked past Emma's shoulder, "And speak of the devil."

**A/N: … **

**Don't hate Emma… and, wow! Right? Still catching your breathe because I am! I swear, they just do what they want and I just sit and stare in awe. They're just so- so… amazing! Anyways… yeah… eep! **

**Everyone thank you for the vids and music! Music is so appreciated, and I love a good vid, so keep sending them my way! **

**Inkblood- I love your playlist! SO MUCH! **

**And review please! :D Love you dearie! **


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Alright you guys! Another quota filled! Woohoo! **

**Seriously, you have no idea how much I truly appreciate all of your kind words and all of your encouragement! They really keep me writing! I love you so much! You are the best! **

**That last chapter was kind of a filler, so, here is something that will move the plot along again. Also, I do REALLY promise I am in no way related to the Evil Queen. I'm only evil **_**sometimes**_**… this has just kind of been a long mean streak I guess…**

Chapter 32

~: Belle :~

_I wish that you won't come. _If nothing else in the whole world happened before she died, she had to remain fervent in her wishing. Wishing that he would save himself, and that act in turn would save everyone else. If he saved himself, everyone else would be saved. His soul would remain.

She was almost dim to the entire conversation around her, she was wishing with all her might, but she knew Emma was there. Emma the curse breaker, Emma the savior of them all. "Shoot her," she mumbled into the dirt as she heard Henry speaking.

"No one, but Rumpelstiltskin," and Belle heard the confident smile- she knew- Regina knew he was coming. "I assume he's told you about the situation?"

It was her fault that this was happening- if she had just stayed in her cell, hadn't been careless, her friends, Rumpelstiltskin would still be happy- he would still be living a normal life and none of this would be happening to them- he wouldn't be giving up his free will. Because of her.

"Shoot her now Emma!" Belle cried out in desperation.

_ I wish that you won't come. _

"You're not getting it!" she heard fearless little Henry yell. He was a beacon in darkness, the light to them all. What would they do without his courage?

_I wish that you won't come._

_Too bad dearest. I am coming. _

No! _No_! "Do it!" she shrieked at Emma, tears streaming down her dirt covered face, "Do it, he's coming!" But Emma was shaking, she was hesitating. She wasn't ready to break the curse yet. It was too soon, it was too soon! She felt Regina shove her into the dirt again, and her resolve to stay steady and strong broke at his words in her mind, _Rumpelstiltskin don't come, don't come, I'm only going to die_!

His reply was a whiplash in her mind, and she felt a spark of fury ignite from the other side of the connection. _You're not going to die_!

She felt him, his consciousness- it gave her strength, the connection. She felt herself breathe easier, despite Regina's heel digging into her back, regaining lucidity. She felt her determination rise from within her once more. She was communicating with him, she realized. She had to get him to see reason, to get him to not come to her rescue. _I am! I am going to die_-.

_Not this time_! he snarled, and she saw his face as though they were standing together, and he was holding her- the image was so strong, as were his arms- almost as though they were wrapped tightly around her waist. _I'm not going to let you die_!

She shook her head, trying desperately to think straight, _Rumpelstiltskin please- please_-

_I – I can negotiate for your safety_- he was making it up, apparent in his searching eyes. He knew the Queen would make no such deal.

_It won't matter after she has the dagger- you'll do whatever she says, no matter what you bargain for now_. He would be her puppet. He would lose the sense of himself to her wicked hatred.

He was still trying, thinking of loopholes, _I'll have them take you and go_-

_Where can we hide from you_? she wanted to know with a small smile, touching his face with her cupped hand. There was nowhere. He would find them no matter what they did if he was ordered to.

He growled inhumanly at that, biting back, but still he was clinging to this mental version of herself, not backing away even though they argued. It was unlike him. _Emma will break the curse_!

She was shaking her head, her hand dropping from his face, and then wondered if she could be shaking her head here. It was all so confusing- but no, she had a point to argue. _She's not ready yet- and she can't do it without you. Rumpelstiltskin please! Please go! _She shook his shoulders.

_Don't pretend to know everything dearie_, he snapped ferociously.

_Dearie_- she ducked her head, made to push away. She didn't want to spend these moments fighting anymore, especially not with fresh tears rising to her eyes.

_No- I_- his words were stuttering- and he clung to her more desperately to keep her from breaking away.

She glared downwards, _You can try and push me away again Rumpelstiltskin, because giving into the Queen would be easy_-, she made an angry face, if that were possible in a mental state of being. _It will be easy, and it won't be your fault whatever she makes you do- but this isn't you. Rumpelstiltskin above all else you've desired power_-

_Above all else I desire you!_ his words were a roar, and a growl, and whisper and a vow all at the same time, silencing her with her own heart as it caught in her throat.

She looked up at him then, and the intense despair in his dark eyes brought tears to her own that spilled over. He loved her. He loved her enough to give up his life. Wasn't that enough to be true love? And if it was, how could she let him do so? She had to make him leave. He had to leave her to die. She had to be the one to die. She couldn't bear living knowing he was enslaved to the very woman she hated. _Please, Rumpelstiltskin_! _Let me die- don't fight them_!

_I'm not running anymore- Now I've got something I want to protect_. He stopped himself, sighed, looking determinedly into the distance, even though they were in a mental state instead of a physical one. Could one look into the distance in such a state? He smiled at her, as though he could sense her being curious, but he was back to the argument. _There is no way I can win here, no matter what happens_.

_There is_! She told him earnestly, _Help Emma in her quest!_

_What good is it anyways_? He demanded, growling, but then his voice turned to grief, _Evil always wins, my love. It always will. Why do we fight it_?

How could he not have faith in Good, when it was the true source of happiness? Being together was good. Good had had its victory then, hadn't it? _Good wins_. She told him frantically, _Good will win. Rumpelstiltskin it's you and not anyone else that decides who wins this fight now. You are the determining factor! Please! I'll make a deal with you_!

He pushed her away then, letting go of her, and she began to fall away, except there was no ground, _You have nothing to bargain with, dearest_. And she was falling away from him as he stood solidly on air above her.

She fell back into herself, felt the pressure of Regina's spiky heel on her back once more, felt the weakness of her body penetrate her mind once more- she had to get back to him. She reached out mentally, feeling figment fingers grasp the edge of his consciousness-

Regina's voice sliced through her efforts, "And speak of the devil."

No- _no, no no no_, he could not be here, _he could not be here_- "No!" she screamed.

She struggled to reach him, to maintain the connection, _Please Rumpelstiltskin, please leave_- she yelled into the blackness where he had been only moments before in her mind, stretching her hands out to him to clasp, _it's all I want, that's the only thing I want. Everyone is going to die if you do this. Please leave Rumpelstiltskin, there is nothing_ nothing _you can do for me anymore. I'm going to die- please leave! Please I wish for you to leave! Please!_

There was nothing in reply, "A word from you, Rumpelstiltskin, the single flicker of a spell, and, well, you know what happens." The Queen was enjoying this- Belle could hear it- she was getting what she wanted again.

In desperation she cried out something she couldn't really hold to, _I promise to live if you will just leave! _

His response was so familiar it scared her, _That's a lie_.

A gunshot pierced the air- another bullet in the soil, right next to her hand, jarring her back to the physical world. She heard Snow White yelp-

"I said even a flicker!" Regina shouted furiously, "Don't try and speak with them- not even her. You know I sense it, even if the bond is- _strong_."

He wasn't going to listen to her. He was going to go through with this. He was gone from her mind entirely now, leaving her, _Rumpelstiltskin, no! Please- please no… don't go- not now, not when you know I'm right. This isn't fair! _She looked for his face outside in the gloom, and only say Emma's leather coat, Snow White's bright now stained white dress, Henry's shining knife- where was he?

_You're cheating again-_ she accused viciously, angry at him, that he could even think to come and endanger after- after everything she had said. He had to leave, had to flee,_ you're- cheating…_ It wasn't lack of strength that was causing the stutters- she felt stronger still then she had before- but it was the horror.

It was actually going to happen.

A nightmare worse than any she could have conjured for herself. She felt the reality stab her in her soul, and twist there, ripping-

She searched for his face, and saw nothing in the rain, nothing behind the purple barrier and the white dress and the leather jacket.

If he was going to be here, at the end of everything, couldn't she at least see his face one last time?

~: Regina the Evil Queen:~

They were all there- all of them with horrified looks on their faces, and they could do nothing. They could do absolutely nothing at all, and each of them, somehow, knew it. They couldn't do anything to endanger dear little Belle, who had, in fact, turned out to be a much better bargaining chip then she'd ever intended.

She felt like laughing as she felt the rift open and Rumple step through.

There was too much magic on him though- she could feel it ripple. "A word from you, Rumpelstiltskin, the single flicker of a spell, and, well, you know what happens." She smiled cynically down at Belle, before peering up meeting his eyes. They were darker than the storming night sky, staring her with all of his loathing. And yet, for all that loathing, he could do nothing. He could do nothing to her! She could barely contain her cackle.

When she'd learned of this dalliance, she'd been so afraid that her world was going to come crashing around her ears. But now? Now he was reduced to mere glares while she held all the power. Belle was playing her part perfectly-

She felt the smallest of ripples-

She shot a bullet into the ground again. She was so glad she had had Graham teach her how to shoot. At least he had been somewhat useful.

"I said even a flicker!" Regina shouted at him through the dark rain, "Don't try and speak with them- not even her. You know I sense it, even if the bond is- _strong_."

She cackled at that, not able to contain it anymore.

All according to plan.

She had been getting rather bored with all of this Storybrooke world nonsense, and she had hated seeing little Snow White regaining her confidence. After what she had done? She deserved worse than death, and now, with Rumpelstiltskin's infinite magic, she could do anything to the little girl, anything at all! Nothing could stop her.

"Now," Regina tilted her head to the side. "I want that dagger-."

"Don't do it!" Henry yelled, his voice shaking.

The boy had chosen their side. How could he, when she had raised him, fed him, clothed him, cared for him? Had that all meant nothing to him? How could he stand there now—betrayal in truest form—and deny her anything?

"Anyone! Say a word and I will shoot her," Regina smiled. And she could, though it wouldn't do her much good. The poor creature was running out of places to shoot without it being too detrimental. Well, and she'd already lost so much blood, there was no way she was going to survive this encounter anyways, frail as she was. "Now," she put her free hand on her hip. "I want that dagger- but- ah ah ah- don't you come any closer Rumple. I don't want you any nearer than you have to be. I'll have somebody else bring it for you."

She had slim pickings, as it were. The stranger and Charming were both not an option. She didn't know the motives for one, and the other was too heroic for his own good. Given an opportunity he would take it. Emma was out. She had a gun, with more bullets than Regina had. Guns were something of a problem. Advanced technology did disrupt magic, and Regina didn't want to guess if guns would work against her or not.

It was down to Henry, and to Snow White—and wouldn't it be ever so sweet if dear little Snow White were the one to condemn them all, with one simple action?

She smiled vindictively, and gestured with a finger, "Snow White, my dear, bring me the dagger."

~: Snow White :~

She'd felt Rumpelstiltskin appear next to her- the way the air shifted as it opened to let someone to step through.

She looked to him. He was tight lipped under his hooked nose, his hair and clothing dampening as he looked on the scene.

Now she stared at him in horror as the Queen's words resounded over them. She looked at one of the most feared men in any realm she'd ever been to, and gasped. She? She was the one to do this? But- how-

He turned to her mechanically, his eyes flat, lifeless when they looked at her, but didn't meet her eyes. He looked so- wrong. None of that flickering mischievousness in his eyes, none of that terrifying predator-like prowl in his lean-.

Had he given up?

"No!" Belle shrieked again, "Snow White don't do it! Take the dagger and -," there was a choking cry, and Snow turned to see Regina's foot on what looked like Belle's neck, - Belle was trying to claw at the foot, half of her face in the mud.

"Take your foot off her now, Regina!" Emma shouted, stepping forward.

"Snow White, take the dagger from Rumpelstiltskin- without letting it touch your skin. We don't need any complications, now, do we?"

Snow looked to Rumpelstiltskin for help, and he handed her the dagger wrapped in a ragged cloth, resigned. She held it in front of her in both her shaking hands gingerly.

"Run, Snow!" Belle shouted, pushing the shoe off of her face. "Run!" The foot slammed down on her cheek again, and Snow heard the yelp before Belle shut her mouth against it's escape.

Snow looked on in horror, thoughts running a million miles and back again. But she couldn't run. She couldn't flee, despite how good she was at running, how well she knew how to run away from her problems and let chaos reign in her wake.

There were a hundred ways to go, a hundred ways to defy the Queen and let Rumpelstiltskin loose, even force him to work for their good, but they all ended in Belle's death. All of them ended with a bullet in the brain or a spiked heel through an eye-

She could not leave Belle to die.

There would be ways to stop Rumpelstiltskin, to steal the dagger back later. They could kill him if they had to. He was the evil one. Belle- she was pure, and good. They could not lose her. They could defeat the Evil Queen later. For now, Belle had to live. She could not be responsible for Belle's death.

She turned on her heel, and began to step toward slowly, shaking, to Regina and her captive, where they stood in the dome like faintly purple barrier.

"Don't do it!" Henry cried out, running towards her, but August stepped out and snagged the kid by the shoulders before he could do anything irrational. She would have to thank him for that later.

She passed James, and he looked at her- she knew that he would be making the same decision right now. And he hated that she was the one to do this, that she was the one that was going to aid the Queen, but he told her that they would fix it later, that Belle was more important.

Emma was last, and all Emma did was glance at her.

Emma- her Emma, the girl who was going to save them all, looked more lost and hopeless than she had been the night the curse had been enacted upon them. She wanted to hold her little girl, to comfort her, but she was going to be the one to do this, to end this- this was just too soon, and they didn't have a plan-

She stepped past Emma, and focused on her goal. Delivering the dagger to Regina.

She was only feet away.

How could she be doing this- but there was no choice- there was no choice.

Belle had stopped struggling, and Regina had removed her foot to receive her prize. Her black eyes were greedy, full of malicious delight, but she kept one arm out, gun cocked and pointed at Belle.

Snow couldn't breathe.

She wanted to look back at James, back at Emma-

All she could see were those black eyes.

"NO!"

And suddenly there was a tug on her dress so strong it sent her sprawling, the dagger tumbling from her-

There was a gunshot.

All Snow could do was scream.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He had been lending her strength when they'd communicated telepathically. It had been tricky, and very draining. He hadn't done it before – he'd needed all his concentration to break apart the spell protecting the door of the clock tower.

He saw her- knew what she was going to do the moment her face turned to watch the spectacle- he'd given her the energy, the strength to do it- he wished he hadn't. The hatred in her eyes-.

"NO!" His lovely, little Belle only hated one person. And she was not going to spend her dying breathe lying at her feet, watching this happen- he watched her delicate, muddy hand as it came up, yanked on Snow White's dress so she toppled, the dagger dropping as he yelled-

A gunshot pierced the air-

-but it missed its intended target.

She was looking up at him with horror on her face, horror on that beautiful face, and all he wanted to do was brush it away with his hands. But all he could do was collapse onto the ground from where he'd been crouching in front of her.

The world was blurring around him as his head hit home.

He couldn't hear her screaming- could only hear his ears roar like waves were crashing over him. He couldn't breathe-

He suspected a pierced lung would do that to a person.

**A/N: … breathe, **

**Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.**

**OK.**

**I feel like he would be sarcastic about it all, don't you? **

**Also- I feel like I should start responding- because now I have more time to do so! I can't tell everyone something, but I'll try my best! **

**Inkblood- my heart! *clutches* so sweet! **

**Cheshire – I'm sorry! Here's a tissue *hands tissue* or maybe the whole box? **

**Artemis- Close ;)**

**Zerraweth – thank you for all the music! :D You're fair phenomenal!**

**Yu-Gi-Ah 2.0 – I love that you always say BYE BYE- in my head I have this great mental image of you! haha! **

**Evilnor- great name btw. Um! Yes, and no, because Belle would still be in the Evil Queen's clutches, at gunpoint… anyways, I suppose the point is moot now since he's dying, yes? **

**MelBelle2, Rai Rai Blue, ScarlettLovesRhett, Kay3la Rich5ard, My Beautiful Ending, Asguardian-candy and Anne Andrews, EarthGuardian, Fancy-Pants Lockhart- I hope you know I love reading y'alls reviews! :D *glomps!***

**Moonlight – haha! You're awesome! XD**

**Kmp121183 – I thought I was the only one who knew about Robert Miles! Isn't he good? **

**And to all those who caught the Disney references- again! I love you guys and your Disney knowledgablility! (No that's not a word, but I feel like it should be!)**

**MUSIC IS SO APPRECIATED! Thank you all for your music ideas! :D**

**Also, know that I love YOU and I shall reply to your review next time hopefully! **

**Until Friday, dearies! **


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST! ANOTHER QUOTA FILLED OVER THE BRIM! *dances about in joy*! Almost 800 reviews! WOOHOO! **

**I'm leaving tonight for my cabin, and I'll be isolated for a few days – don't worry, I'll be back to post on Sunday night! Never fear, dearie. ;) (Plus I HAVE to see the new episode) So, I won't be receiving anything until then. **

**And my decision to go is probably wise. **

**Um… **

**Well, you have been really great. Really great. **

… **enjoy. **

Chapter 33

~: Emma :~

She was too late, _she was too late_!

She shot her gun at Regina methodically- once, twice, three times-

But the woman was gone, disappeared in a whirl of black and purple smoke.

She had been too late!

Emma stepped forward, not phased by the disappearing act, she'd had enough of being phased tonight- and saw in the dark raining distance another whirl of black and purple smoke, saw someone leaning against a tree- Regina. She was not going to get away, magic or no magic.

Emma ran forward, yelling for David and August to follow.

And there her friends were.

They passed her as she stopped next to Isabelle- next to where Mr. Gold lay, bleeding. She was trying to roll him over onto his back- Snow White- Mary Margret stooped to help, staining her beautiful white dress with dirt and blood.

"Emma!" August shouted, and she turned immediately to follow, the dirt and jagged rocks dull on her feet as she sprinted towards them. David was running at Regina with a large stick in hand, holding it like he would a sword. As long as it got the job done-

Regina disappeared again the instant Emma was in clear shooting range, disappearing another two hundred yards away.

It didn't matter how fast this witch traveled- Emma would have her head. She was going to die for what she had done tonight. She was going to die for shooting her friends, for attempting to kill her friends. She was going to die for keeping her and Henry apart for so long, and her and her mom, Mary Margret, or Snow White- whatever her name was. She was going to kill her for locking everyone in this curse and forcing them to live mundane, hapless lives. Emma was going to kill Regina for being the Evil Queen.

Pelting through the rain, she was on David's heels, in front of David, August trailing behind them.

Regina was going to die.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He hadn't really known what to expect-

It was very different- very, very different though-

"No!" she was choking, her tears flowing freely down her face. He didn't want her to cry, he didn't want that he knew.

"Don't-," he tried- and he found he couldn't get enough oxygen to form words without choking on them- liquid was rising in his mouth.

"He's got a punctured lung-," Snow White was saying. Little princess to the rescue- he'd forgotten she knew first aid.

"But I thought that he couldn't be hurt by anything but his dagger!" Henry was shouting, frantic, wielding a kitchen knife as long as his fore arm. Knives were for adults- he should put it down- didn't have the energy to do anything but spit out whatever was clogging his airway-

"Technology disrupts magic-," Snow White repeated what Belle had said earlier.

"No, that's not it," Henry shook his head. Clever lad, Henry. Clever, clever…

"How do we save him?" she, there was only one she in the world now, clutching at his shirt, her hands too shaky to actually hold it. He wanted to quiet those hands, clasp them in his own-

Snow White directed her calmly, tearing fabric from the gold dress and putting it over his gunshot, "Apply pressure to the wound, keep talking to him to keep him from going into shock," Shock? He'd been shot. How much more into shock could he get? Snow White stood then, looking at her and still sounding tranquil, but Rumpelstiltskin knew that there was terror behind that calm, "I have to call 911."

"It's True Love! His magic is gone!" Henry shouted, picking up the dagger. There was no name. Clever, clever lad… he had to touch her, hold her hands-

"No- no it's not," Belle denied, her voice still quavering, "I didn't kiss him- so - you're still a sorcerer, you'll heal quickly-," she smiled at him, her eyes glossy with tears, "N-nothing can kill you b-but that dagger. You tell him, you tell him that you're fine," she licked her lips, and then looked back to her task to hide her fear.

He smiled at her, and that smile took such effort, but she didn't see. He finally reached her hands and clasping them in his own.

She ducked her head, keeping her hands firmly in place, the rain drenching her dark hair, "No, we have to keep pressure on your wound until paramedics- until the paramedics-."

"Belle," he tried to soothe her. He just wanted her gaze on his. He wanted to tell her- he wanted- so much-

"No! You're not the one who's supposed to be hurt. It's me! I'm supposed to die," she was saying to his wound as the cloth she held there soaked with his own blood- odd, to bleed so much- "I'm supposed to die," she repeated shakily under her breathe.

"You- you already died once," he reminded her, brushing a curl with his hand, "– We're- we're even, maybe?" Even. She'd always liked to be even.

"No!" and even now he couldn't help but enjoy teasing her, even if it was morbid. But she had more to say, "You'll be fine, you'll be just fine, let me apply pressure-," she pulled her hands from his, and tore fresh cloth from her once beautiful dress, her hands blood stained and covering his wound, "Why aren't you healing yet? Why aren't you healing yet?" she demanded in whispers.

She wouldn't look at him. She was trying to be strong. She knew the answer though. She knew- he'd never thought about dying for anyone else but Baelfire. Baelfire- and now her. He would die for her, die for her gladly. Because he loved her. Because he truly loved her.

"Maybe-," it was such a struggle to speak. It was such a struggle to breathe. Though he'd never heard of this being easy. "Maybe it's better-," he huffed, "it's better this way."

She looked up at him then, "Don't talk like that," she told him, and braved a smile, even if it was small. That smile- worth everything in the world, "You'll be alright," she promised, and he couldn't find it in him to laugh, because that was the farthest from the truth. "We're together now, everything's going to be fine, you'll see," she was smiling through her tears, trying to comfort him.

His brave, brave Belle, little and lovely and so very brave – he loved her for everything that she was, should have loved her more than he had before. He'd been so- so wrong for her. But – now - She would survive this like he never could- she would be better this way, without him. Marry, love, have children-

And he wanted, oh he wanted, to be the one, but he wouldn't, couldn't, had always known deep down he wasn't enough for her, why he'd been so afraid to love her, because who could ever love a beast like him?

And it was – it was worth everything in the world, worth everything in all the worlds- to have her here, to touch her beautiful face this last time- why had he not seen it before? Her face was blurring- he blinked to see it clearly, to see those eyes clearly, as he fought to breathe, fought to speak, "At- at least- I got to see you- one last time."

~: Belle :~

"At – at least- I got to see you – one last time," his voice was low, the lilt still there, even now-

She sobbed then, turning her face into his hand and clasping it with both of her own, tears overflowing as she held him there- as if holding his hand could keep him with her- she closed her eyes, feeling his touch, course and perfect, wishing with all her might that he would be alright-

His hand fell limp against her cheek.

She opened her eyes in a flash to look at it, to look at him- she let go of his hand to press hers to her face in horror, shaking her head.

"No," she told him, searching his features, "no!" she leaned closer, staring into his face- his eyes were closed, his head against the ground and the rain kept falling all around them-

She was shaking, shaking and she couldn't make him wake up- he had to wake up-

She grabbed his shirt, "Please!" she begged, "_Please_!" she tried again, but there was nothing, no response, no response, "Please don't leave me!"

Her heart wasn't working, _No- please no- Please_- he left- he had – _no_- Nothing was making sense, he was leaving her- and she couldn't breathe, didn't want to breathe- he could have all her breathe ever if he would come back-

He had to grant her this one wish- it's all she wanted, all she wanted- _Please, please don't leave me! Please come back_- he had to listen, he had to give this last thing to her, she would never ask for anything ever _ever_ again- he wasn't listening, he wasn't listening-

_No_, she collapsed onto his chest, a sob wracking her frame, clutching at his shirt in her fingers, clutching as though it would keep him with her always.

"I love you," she told him, breathed into his chest, and she felt no heart beating there- and the rain kept falling- and there was blood, blood everywhere. His blood, it was everywhere- no- no- _no…_

~: Emma :~

She heard the scream- Isabelle's scream of horror that made Emma's stomach tighten and her heart skip a beat-

And Emma knew-

Emma knew what had happened and fire filled her veins like it never had before.

With a roar of rage at her lost ally, she ran forward with all her might, where Regina was. She would kill her if it was the last thing she ever did.

~: Regina the Evil Queen :~

The first bullet had landed true, blasting into her hip, draining her- she was slower than she had been once, and she couldn't teleport very far-

She'd been skipping about trying to avoid that no good Sheriff, and she was going to keep it that way. Avoiding her, that was- but for now- she had to catch her breath-

She sagged against a tree- gasping for air-

The scream shattered the night, making Regina's ear's perk up.

Regina smiled sadistically- at least the little creature who had ruined everything would lose more than she would tonight-

She heard Emma's roar of rage- and disappeared again, only a few hundred yards away.

Frowning at her lack of energy, she decided she'd had enough of this game-

She took a deep breathe, and summoning everything she could, she disappeared- far away this time, where Emma and her little bullets couldn't reach her. She went to her home. She stumbled onto the carpet, and fell against the couch of her house, panting for breathe.

Magic took up so much of her energy.

She leaned to pick up a telephone.

At least this night wasn't an entire waste.

She'd gotten rid of an enemy. She smiled at the gun, with only one bullet left, in free her hand. She could have used it to shoot Belle, but she had decided not to. Decided to let her deal with her valiant little man's demise. There was nothing worse than a broken heart, and Belle deserved it. Deserved it for giving Rumple back his dark magic. And so, she smiled wider.

She'd ruined that pathetic little creature's life tonight.

"This is 911, what is your emergency?" a voice said on the other end of the phone, reminding her that she had already dialed.

"This is Regina Mills- I've been shot," she breathed, trying to sound more hurt than she was. Playing it up was something she had learned long ago. If she was going to frame the Sheriff for shooting her she might as well do it properly. And there would be a clean slate again. She'd have to get a new couch- she was bleeding on it, staining the crisp whiteness with crimson. She smiled at it- maybe red was more her color.

Now she would start again, and this time, there would be _no_ foul ups.

~: Snow White :~

She heard the scream rend the air in two- and knew the noise, understood what it was- knew that noise so well, because she herself had made it twenty eight years ago when she'd been so sure all was lost as her Charming and their daughter had fled to the tree stump. All had been lost then-

She'd told the paramedics where they were, but she hung up on them now-

She turned, hiking up her dress and ran-

And there was Belle- and Rumpelstiltskin, eyes shut-

And Snow had to stop herself from crying, covering her mouth as she heard Belle's pleas, her inexplicable bartering, as though any of it would bring him back. Deals spewed from her mouth amongst the sobbing, and all Snow could do was hold in the tears and realize she had to help.

She knelt down next to Belle, putting her arm around Belle's bare shoulders, "Sweetheart, we have to step away for a bit."

"Wake up, Rumpelstiltskin," she was saying, "Please- please! I'll give you anything you ask for- I'll work in your estate forever, and I'll never, ever kiss you- and I'll break all the tea cups you want-," her voice choked, "and you can have- you can have all- all of my children- all of them- I don't-!"

"We need to get you away from here," Snow White whispered soothingly, trying to pry her fingers off.

"No- no!" she pushed Snow White's hands away, "You promised!" she yelled at his corpse, her voice breaking, "You- you promised that- that you would make my wishes come true, Rumpelstiltskin- you promised!" she held him by his shirt front.

"Sweetheart-," and Snow was trying so hard not to cry with her. She was going into shock, and she needed help- she was soaked in blood, most of it probably her own- the girl was looking more pale than she had the first night Snow had laid eyes on her- had it only been weeks ago-?

"Why?" Belle wanted to know, her voice thick and hoarse, her hands letting go of his shirt, quaking fingers unsure what to do as the rain washed them of his blood.

And Snow White could not answer her.

~: Henry :~

Her first scream sent him stumbling backwards, falling over and landing, still staring at her, and she screamed again, her head buried in Rumpelstiltskin's chest, her face contorted with enough sadness to wrench his heart out of place.

She was begging him- begging him to come back- and Henry didn't know what to do-

Snow White came running out of the woods, rushing to Belle's side, coaxing her away, but Belle clung to Rumpelstiltskin desperately-

This- this wasn't how it was supposed to happen- no one but the Evil Queen was supposed to die- Belle- her happy ending.

He shook his head, tears filling his own eyes as Belle tried to make Snow White let go of her, yelling at Rumpelstiltskin, to please, to please come back-

Happy endings- Emma was supposed to kill Regina and everything was supposed to be back to normal- He couldn't figure it out- everything was supposed to be fine, and Rumpelstiltskin- he'd never, not once, imagined Rumpelstiltskin dying- he was- he was important, and he was going to be on their side in the final battle-

"You cheated!" she howled at him, "You gave me your strength before- you- you cheated! You can have it all back- here!" she grabbed his lifeless hand, pressed it to her face-

No-

Henry lifted up the dagger- the jagged, nameless dagger- his curse had been broken, and he had died. How were they going to break the curse without him? Without Rumpelstiltskin, the very creator of the curse- they were going to be stuck in Storybrooke forever without his help!

Henry looked up to the sky, felt himself crying- how could this be happening? It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair to anyone- it wasn't fair to Belle-

Rumpelstiltskin was dead,

And it wasn't fair. He felt rain pelt against his face.

There really weren't any happy endings in this world.

**A/N: . . .**

**Now- now hold on! Breathe! Just breathe! It'll be ok. It should be ok. **

**I think. **

**No no! Put down your weaponry! It wasn't my fault I swear- it's Regina! I blame Regina! **

**It's not my fault! **

**I'm not quite- well, ok, I'm safely away by now, hopefully- there is a reason I went into hiding! **

**Hehe heh, *gulp* **

**I love you! Please, pretty please review! **


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: First off. First off… **

**Ok, over 60 reviews? **

**You guys! **

**YOU GUYS! **

**YOU ARE AMAZING YOU ARE YOU ARE! **

**OVER 60 REVIEWS? **

**I CAN'T- CAN'T EVEN BEGIN TO TELL YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU! AT THIS RATE, YOU ALL, WE'RE GOING TO MAKE IT! **

**YES! **

**YES YES YES!**

**Only 140 reviews left until I reach the ultimate goal! **

**And I couldn't have done it without you! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH! **

**Ooo, and the threats!**

**The threats on my life were awesome! I know that sounds a little mad, but well, you understand. I'm a little mad to kill off Rumpelstiltskin, as it were, so you guys - **

**Right… that. **

**And, I feel like I should buy everyone a box of tissues. No really though. You've been through so much heart ache, and you deserve that at least. **

**Because, well, I suppose… **

**I'll, I'll just let you all keep reading.**

Chapter 34

~: Belle :~

Everything was dark- and there was so much black, but he had always liked black.

There were only a few of them at the funeral. Only a handful of them. Henry, Emma, Snow White…

She, she didn't know if there was anything, anymore, as they lowered the casket.

Nothing. Emptiness. And he was gone. Six feet under. Gone.

A/N: APRIL FOOLS!

And you thought you all would get away without any such pranks. From me? Come on, now dearie, you really think you could get away without? *grins with a giggle*

No, now you may read on. The rest is the real story, I promise. I hope you enjoy!

~: Belle :~

She knew Snow White's arm around her, pulling her away, helping her to stand, but she couldn't really feel it. There was no feeling in her legs, no muscles there to make them work, no muscles in her arms to let her hold him. Nothing. She was dry eyed, no noise coming from her now-

She had had to turn it all off, had to shut it out- her whole body was numb, and she remembered a similar feeling- the night he had made her leave Dark Castle, she had run until there was too much to feel, and then- she had turned off- because she didn't know what else to do-

But his face- his face was there and it looked just like he was sleeping-

Why couldn't she just wake him up?

Snow White was talking to her, "Sweetheart, it's alright, stand up-."

But it wasn't alright- he had promised to make her wishes come true- he had promised- and she thought that that meant that he was taking them back- because they couldn't have children here- they didn't know if they would be allowed back in the other world- and he had said that he wanted to make them come true- she had wanted a wedding, and an entire life- all the hope that had filled her this evening when he'd danced with her- had that only been hours-

Only hours since he had promised- it seemed like a lifetime ago, like someone else's lifetime ago and she'd read about it in a book because nothing, nothing could change so drastically in one night-

She had never even imagined him dying, had not even considered it possible- he was Rumpelstiltskin, the impenetrable, unbeatable creature of fairytales-

And he was just lying there-

The lump in her throat threatened to choke her-

Maybe it would be easier to die- but she hadn't died yet- and it was because he'd given her that energy before in the mental connection, before he'd come with the dagger- if, if only he had kept it, he might still be alive-

And she remembered something- something that through it all was still clutched in her hand- how she had forgotten it digging into the palm of her hand- it was the handle. The handle to the chipped tea cup- she unfolded the last two fingers of her hand where she'd been holding it, but didn't look at it. Couldn't look at anything but his face-

How was that fair? He had gotten a chipped tea cup and an empty heart, and now all she was able to have was – was – emptiness, without a cup to cherish -

"Wait!" Henry shouted. She didn't have the strength to look from Rumpelstiltskin's face- if she looked away she might miss him waking up- he would wake up- he would have to -"Belle!"

Henry grabbed her hand, the one without the handle in it- and it was just as lifeless as Rumpelstiltskin's had been.

"What is it Henry?" Snow White asked carefully, still hefting Belle up.

"You- you have to kiss him!" Henry told her, and Belle looked into his eyes then. His round little eyes- there was hope there- she remembered hope- and it was so infectious- she nodded at him- a possibility- maybe-

"Henry-," Snow White's voice was cautious, "Don't-."

"She has to at least try!" Henry shouted, tugging at her hand. And she could try- she stepped forward, "Come on Belle!" he encouraged with a half smile-

"I don't think she can-," Snow White said-

Belle felt herself falling to her knees next to his form, staring at his face still- before looking to Henry, looking to him for the answer.

He gestured at Rumpelstiltskin, nodding, his eyes wide and expectant, "You just have to kiss him."

Just had to kiss him.

She turned back to Rumpelstiltskin then, taking one of his hands in hers, and folded the handle of the cup into his grasp.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she whispered, "Please, if you're there, if you're lingering, know that I love you- if- if I can't," she had to swallow, to continue to speak, "If you have to go- then go- I'll, I'll miss you- so much-." She smiled bravely, and hoped that he could hear her, hoped he would understand if he couldn't come back to her as she leaned into his face, "I'll love you, forever."

And she kissed his cold, motionless lips. And wished with all her might that he would come back to her.

Nothing happened.

She opened her eyes, staring at him.

She waited, and kissed him again, pausing there, studying his features.

There was no change.

"It- it was supposed to work-," Henry stammered, looking at Rumpelstiltskin's body in horror.

She broke away from him.

How could it work? Death was not an evil curse that could be broken.

It was final. It was all encompassing. It was cruel, and merciless, and just because she would die of a broken heart if he did not return did not mean that Death would give him up again.

Belle felt herself plummet into darkness, but this time she didn't scream- she didn't cry. She didn't know if she could ever do anything again- She stood, her muscles mechanical, and turned. Turned from him. Didn't really see Snow White as she tried to intercept her.

He was dead, and there was nothing she could do.

She could travel to the very depths of the world to try and retrieve his soul, but it was lost to her. She was alone again- alone like she had been for twenty eight years. She would be alone again. Forever.

She stood motionless, feeling like all the feeling was seeping through her, down her legs into the earth, the forest floor soaking everything up as though it were rain water. She felt the world tilting, but she was glued there, glued to the surface of the earth, and everything around her was spinning.

The sound of boots- of voices- she determined that the paramedics had arrived- were rushing past her- and it was all a blur- a blur of red and loud noise from the distance and dark, curdling despair-

One of the paramedics stood in her face, and it was so much a different world than what she wanted, so very different. He was flashing lights in her eyes- and it was blinding- but it wasn't like she wanted to see anything anyways-

It took her a moment to realize the paramedic was asking questions. Or one question- just repeating it- and it took her another moment to realize she should respond so that he could stop asking-

"Are you alright, Miss?" he asked her again, sounding more and more frantic every time she didn't answer.

"No," she told him truthfully, before she felt everything rush to her head, and she passed out in a dead faint.

~: Emma :~

There was nothing.

No sign of her.

No sign of that wretched witch.

Emma had wanted to kill her- had wanted to shoot her, burn her at the stake, and have her remains scattered throughout the world so that no ash ever met another ever. And she had escaped.

Escaped with magic.

Emma already hated magic. Now she hated it more.

She had stopped where she'd seen Regina last, next to a tree.

She heard David coming around, heard August behind him. They had searched the permiter too, and there was still nothing. Nothing to show for it.

Emma slammed her fist into the very solid tree, but didn't recoil as the pain spasmed up her arm. She was furious.

"Emma," August shouted, panting.

"I couldn't find her," David said from behind.

"Me either," August jogged to a stop in her peripheral vision. "Not a trace."

"She's used magic to get away," David spoke aloud, as though that needed to be said. Emma felt like whirling on him for making such a stupid remark, but she didn't. She wasn't going to take her anger out on David. David hadn't done anything.

Regina had.

She would save it for Regina.

"We're going to find her," Emma snarled.

"Yes," August agreed, placing a hand on her shoulder, "But first we're going to get you a pair of shoes and a change of clothes."

Emma felt herself trembling.

If she stopped now- she would have to-

And Henry- she had left Henry back there to watch-

Mr. Gold was dead. Isabelle was dying.

Now wasn't the time to run away from everything. Not when she was the one who was supposed to save them all.

She leaned against August for support, terrified. How was she going to save them all if magic was there? How could she compete against it? How could she compete against Regina?

"We'll find her," August promised again, wrapping an arm around her, and taking the gun from her limp grasp. "Let's get you home."

"How can I win if – if she can just disappear?" Emma wanted to know.

"Now," August smiled at her, and she was surprised to see that in his eyes there was confidence- he knew what to do, "that's the fun part."

~: Henry :~

It was supposed to work, why didn't it work?

The 911 people had finally made it but they were too late- they were too late-

True Love's Kiss was supposed to fix everything- it was supposed to fix everything-

Men were crouching around in front of him, asking him if he was alright- but he was fine- it was Rumpelstiltskin that needed to wake up. They were holding his wrist, checking his pulse Henry assumed, listening to see if there was any breathing.

But his chest wasn't rising.

Prince Charming had awakened Snow White with a kiss- it had worked that time. Why was it not working now?

People were crowding him, only two people really, but it felt like more because they were not helping, taking Rumpelstiltskin away, and he hadn't woken up yet-

"No, no I need to make sure he wakes up," Henry was telling them, pushing past as people lifted Rumpelstiltskin onto a stretcher. "Watch out- I need to make sure-." He was trying to tell them, when someone wrapped a big blanket around him.

"You're going to be fine, son," the paramedic said.

What did he have to do with it? No- he had to make Rumpelstiltskin wake up. Of course he was fine- he tried to reach Rumpelstiltskin- they were putting a black blanket over him. That black blanket was so final. Didn't they know Rumpelstiltskin was still waking up?

Henry saw Belle pass out into another paramedic's arms, heard Snow White gasp, "We're going to need another stretcher!" shouted the paramedic, "I think she's lost a lot of blood!"

"Hold on- we can put him down, he's already dead, and take her instead-," one of the paramedics was saying, and helped to lift Rumpelstiltskin off the stretcher- laid him back down in front of Henry, black blanket still shrouding him from view.

"She's been shot twice it looks like-," the one paramedic was saying, and Henry watched as they put Belle onto the stretcher gently, and she looked just as pale as Rumpelstiltskin did, one of her blood stained hands falling delicately to one side as her neck arched upwards, her head tilted back, looking just like a person who'd just eaten a poisoned apple. No- she couldn't die! Belle couldn't die too- Rumpelstiltskin wasn't there to wake her up-

"Careful-," one paramedic was saying to the other two.

The head paramedic was directing them, "We'll come back for him in a minute," he looked to Rumpelstiltskin, before helping the other two heft the stretcher up. He looked to Snow White, "Mary Margret, could you help us?"

Snow White almost didn't respond to her old name, before blinking, "Yes- anything you need-," she nodded at them, before turning back to look at Henry. "You'll be alright?" she wanted to know.

He didn't really understand the question, but nodded.

Snow White turned to go with them, helping suppress wounds and the like- the paramedics talking all the way as they hustled into the night talking frantically about injuries and treatments and breathing rates.

The rain was ending, but it still pattered dismally around him as he knelt back down in the mud.

He was still holding Rumpelstiltskin's legendary knife, along with the wimpy looking kitchen knife. He dropped his dumb knife, annoyed with himself. He hadn't even used it to help anyone. He didn't deserve to be a knight of the Enchanted Forest, let alone the son of the White Knight, the savior of the realm.

He felt like Rumpelstiltskin should be holding it on his chest, like a king of old buried with his weapon. He was centuries old, and had done as many great deeds as a hundred kings.

Henry pulled the blanket back from Rumpelstiltskin, looking at the face that had once held so much spark, had terrorized the town with a single flickering glance- to think someone like that could be killed with one bullet. That one bullet could ruin everything so quickly…

Numbly he took Rumpelstiltskin's hands, and put them over the knife now laid on Rumpelstiltskin's mid drift- but something was in one of his hands, so he couldn't wrap it around the knife. It felt like a jagged edge of something. Was it important? Henry wanted to know.

He tried to pry it away-

But Rumpelstiltskin's fingers curled around it.

Henry leapt back, staring in astonishment as he watched the hand around the object clasp whatever was there tightly- and in utter amazement watched as whatever was in his hand began to shine-

It shined a bright gold- and then the golden color lanced up his arm-

But the knife- the legendary dagger was glowing dark, and it shot up his other arm-

Henry gasped out loud as the colors classed in a brilliant array- half and half, splitting Rumpelstiltskin in two. The dark half of his face was the scaly mask he wore in the Enchanted Forest, while the golden half was bright, almost too bright to look at-

The dark began to overtake, and Henry couldn't help but want the gold to win. It was overpowering the gold- the darkness had taken over most of his face, was reaching the golden elbow-

And then, like lightning, the gold shone throw, taking over Rumpelstiltskin's entire body like wildfire-

He shone gold, brilliantly bright gold that lit up the entire clearing-

The gold began to die, and Henry feared the gold was losing again, but then the gold gathered in a ball over Rumpelstiltskin, before shooting straight into Rumpelstiltskin's chest.

Henry made to touch Rumpelstiltskin, but stopped- and stared- and -

Watched the first breathe come to Rumpelstiltskin's chest shallowly- heard him gasp-

Watched Rumpelstiltskin open his eyes-

Watched as Rumpelstiltskin sat up, clutching the knife in one hand, and the fragment of whatever was in the other, with complete amazement.

Henry let out a cry of joy-

"You're alive!" Henry shouted, leaping forward to search Rumpelstiltskin's face, to make sure, but the astonishment was clear, and Henry couldn't find anything to doubt. Those dark, terrifying eyes were _totally_ Rumpelstiltskin's, "You're alive!"

Rumpelstiltskin's mouth was slow to ask, "How-?"

"It worked! It worked!" Henry was euphoric enough to hug Rumpelstiltskin, almost sending the pair of them end over end. Henry kept shouting, not exactly sure what he was saying, but he was so happy! Belle would get her happy ending after all!

Rumpelstiltskin was breathing heavily, as though he'd been drowned- well, he had been dead- or had he been? Henry didn't even care right then. This fixed e_verything_!

He pushed the boy off of him, prying their faces apart, "Where's Belle?" he wanted to know.

"The paramedics took her-," Henry motioned in the other direction, but he couldn't believe it!

Rumpelstiltskin was alive!

"Where?" Rumpelstiltskin wanted to know, still trying to get Henry off of him, looking around him.

Henry sat back, picking up his own knife, "To the hospital. Don't worry, Snow White is with them. No one's as kick trash as my grandma- well, except for my mom."

"Not that I don't trust you," Rumpelstiltskin's voice indicated that he didn't trust his words at all, "I am going after them." Rumpelstiltskin staggered to his feet.

"Me too!" Henry beamed, bouncing up. "Here, I can be your cane." Henry told him as Rumpelstiltskin hobbled a few steps.

"My leg-," Rumpelstiltskin said in confusion.

"I know- you lost your magic remember?" Henry told him, skipping forward to help.

Rumpelstiltskin didn't take the shoulder offered to him, "No- it, doesn't hurt."

"What?" Henry was confused, and tried to glance at the magic blade. Maybe something had counter acted his curse breaking? "Can you use magic still?"

"Not even a whisper," Rumpelstiltskin growled, continuing to hobble forward.

Henry smiled, "That's ok! You're alive!" He ran forward to stand next to him, "And your leg doesn't hurt!"

Rumpelstiltskin didn't say anything to that, but Henry didn't care.

It had worked!

True Love's Kiss had worked!

Magic was the best!

**A/N: and when he started glowing gold you all thought he was going to regenerate into a ginger. ;) = kudos for whoever gets that reference. **

**Right,**

**SO! Anyone relieved? Anyone going to kill me for my April Fool's joke? **

**Please Please PLEASE review! They are all so appreciated! **


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: OVER 900~ WAY OVER 900! LIKE 940! ACK! WE ARE SO CLOSE! XD I'M SO EXCITED! ONLY 60 REVIEWS AWAY! **

**And oh you guys, the responses to my April Fool's joke- bahahahahaha! You all are such great fun to tease! I think my favorite response to my April Fool's joke was being bopped over my head. It was felt, let me tell you. And I also got called a witch, which I feel like is true. What do you think? Hehehe, but the REAL question is, am I a good witch or a bad witch? ;)**

**OH you people who got my Who reference! I loves you! And those who didn't, I highly recommend watching Dr. Who. It's a wonderful show! ;) And I loves you too. Of course!**

**What did you guys think about this episode? The Stable Boy? I wanted to cry! Guys it was so sad, and yet I still hate Regina. I seriously don't have as much sympathy for her as I thought I would. No really though. Eck. And all the Mr. Gold, I just was swooning the entire time and the twist at the end and AH! I love love LOVE it! There is a REASON I've dedicated over 300 pages of writing to this show! **

**Also…**

**The last two chapters are the longest chapters ever in the history of the world! T.T I know I should be happy about that, but there is only one reason – ok, there are two reasons, but I can only tell you one without giving it away – and that one reason is because I don't want this to end! I'm addicted to my own story! T.T How sad is that? **

**And this A/N needs to end. :) Enjoy! **

Chapter 35

~: Henry :~

Moving in with Emma was the coolest thing he had ever done.

Of course, moving meant boxes. And boxes meant packing. That had taken forever today, but he didn't have that much stuff he wanted to keep anyways. Everything he'd gotten was from the Evil Queen, and he didn't really want any mementos.

Though there was plenty of space in the apartment for the both of them now.

Snow White had moved out immediately. She had given Emma the apartment and the keys with a broad smile before skipping across the street to James' open arms and his old truck, full of boxes of her own stuff.

Now that they remembered, and knew they were married, that they didn't really need to worry about the pressures of the unwitting society around them. It hadn't even really been in question to anyone. They had announced that they were going to get married in this world just to keep the town from any real gossip, though Henry didn't see the point. There really wasn't going to be much time for it all.

"You know this doesn't really matter," he told Emma as she set down the last of the boxes.

"What doesn't?" she asked him, brushing her hands on her jeans.

"Moving in with you, and Snow White and James getting re-married. We're just going to be back in the Enchanted Forest soon," he told her, pausing as he pulled out a couple toys. "It'll probably be only a few days."

She gave him a skeptical look, "Oh really?"

"Well, the town is already taking sides," Henry shrugged, and it was true.

The town was in complete chaos.

The Mayor had first accused Emma of shooting her, and then had had her false accusations fall short when Emma (with August's help) was able to prove that Mayor had shot three innocent (well, at least two innocent, and one mostly innocent) people. There had been an absolute uproar. People didn't know who to believe. Now, the Mayor had now disappeared. Gone. No one could find her. Not even Ruby, though they hadn't really put her to the case yet, and Emma surely planned on doing so.

There were mainly two sides to this "argument", as Henry had known that there would be in the end.

People were screaming for Emma's head, declaring Emma Regina's murderer, and while Henry knew Emma would love that to be true, it wasn't. Not yet, because something cataclysmic would have occurred.

Other people wanted to throw Emma on their shoulders and parade her around Storybrooke. These people outweighed those who hated her. It turned out a lot of the town only did what Regina said because she cornered them with threats. Henry rolled his eyes. Big surprise there.

The Mayor's face was now plastered everywhere, on street signs and lamp posts, on bulletin boards and smattered all over the _Mirror_. She was wanted by the town of Storybrooke for attempted murder, and other charges. People were still trying to wrap their minds around it. Regina Mills had been their Mayor for as long as they could remember. The fact that it had turned out that she was a criminal was devastating for the little town. Regina's shady disappearance didn't help her own claims of innocence. Well, that or she was dead. Which Henry had ruled out, because no cosmetic event to take them all back to the Enchanted Forest had happened yet.

Emma had already rounded up several of the culprits who had helped in Regina's little plot to destroy Rumpelstiltskin. The Black Knight was one of them, along with Dr. Whale. It was a good thing they had booked Dr. Whale too, since both of the Frenches were still in the hospital, though one was doing much better than the other. And Henry, well, and the rest of his family, didn't like the idea of any of their friends in the care of Regina's henchmen. The new doctor, though a little less qualified, was a lot more preferable, seeing as they weren't on Regina's payroll. The other hospital personnel were on Emma's side too, an added bonus, because Dr. Whale had apparently not been the best of doctors ever. Another big surprise.

Some of the culprits hadn't been caught though- they had begun to disappear along with Regina. Namely, Sydney Glass, Regina's magic mirror. Henry didn't know what to make of it, but as more of the scarier residents began to vanish, he couldn't help but getting a twisting feeling in his gut. Regina was gathering her army.

But Emma was gathering hers.

All around them the curse was unraveling. People were beginning to remember. The first one who had remembered was Archie. Henry had been delighted after the night when Rumpelstiltskin had died (temporarily), to know that Archie had remembered, and apparently, it all had to do with Snow White's and James' kiss they had shared. Poor Archie was still getting over the fact that he had once been a grasshopper. It was funny to talk to him about it now- because Henry had been right all along, and Archie had wanted to apologize immediately.

Ruby's memory came and went, coming mainly during the nights. Henry suspected it had something to do with the fact that she was a werewolf, and that the moon was waxing. All Henry hoped was that if she remembered, and she was going to turn into a werewolf because of it, that they would find her magic red hood to keep her from killing the entire town. He was pretty sure the people of Storybrooke weren't ready to handle a full blown werewolf just yet.

Granny had her complete memory, and was as kick trash as ever. And she was almost the head of the war council she was so fierce. Not quite, because it went Emma, and then James, and then Snow White, but almost up there. Granny had always been cool, but now? She was awesome!

Leroy had his memories back too. He was having a problem convincing a few of the other dwarves, but they were slowly believing him, especially when he got them drunk. He was pining after the fairy Astrid more now though. It was interesting to watch, because Astrid didn't remember at all yet, and Leroy was apologizing for things that she didn't remember having happened. That particular fairy didn't have her memories yet.

But the Blue Fairy did. She had been another one to remember almost immediately after the initial tear created by Snow White's and Prince Charming's kiss. She was convincing her fairies more subtly than Leroy was the dwarves, but fairies and dwarves were different after all.

Children had remembered easier than adults. Ava and Nicholas, or Gretel and Hansel, remembered some of it, but their dad, Michael Tillman, wouldn't let them anywhere near Henry anymore. Henry understood though. They'd already angered the Queen enough. Ava had apparently threatened to hit her with a shovel. Ava and Nicholas weren't the only ones though.

Paige had remembered her real name was Grace, and had cried and cried that she wanted her real papa, because he had promised to be there for tea, until the man had popped out of a hat Emma had had lying around. The Mad Hatter in their living room last night had freaked Emma out so bad she hadn't pulled her gun off of him until Henry had stood in between them. He couldn't blame Emma though. Emma was still freaking out about the fact that magic existed in the first place, and the fact that she had little to no power over it.

Which, according to the Hatter, was not true. Jefferson had declared that it was she who had made the hat, and therefore it was Emma who had magic. And if Emma had magic, then it meant a whole new can of butt whoop to unleash on the Queen. Emma hadn't wanted to test it though when the Blue Fairy had offered to teach her. Henry was pretty sure he could get Emma to test it though, if he coaxed her into it.

The thought of Regina roaming around would convince her if nothing else would. Emma had had Henry living at Emma's place since day one after the night she had learned about Regina's magical abilities.

They had finally gotten his stuff from the house just that day, four days since the incident in the woods, and she had taken some of her army with her, just in case Regina was convening in her old house. It turned out that she hadn't been. James and August had then gotten to help Henry take his stuff and move out, and they'd been really kind to do it. Again- Henry had THE coolest family ever.

They had also raided Regina's office, but that had been almost as unproductive. What they had gotten out of it were the skeleton keys. The key ring that opened every important door in Storybrooke. Emma had stored them somewhere safe, she said, but if her definition of safe was in the vent, then she needed to rethink for a moment. However, he didn't say anything. For now it would work. For now anything would work. He was pretty content. Four days of living with Emma had been seriously awesome.

Henry, instead of taking Snow White's old room, was sleeping in Emma's room. Emma was still way too nervous to let him be where she couldn't see him. Henry didn't mind. He was with his real mom, and he liked it. He was just worried because she wasn't sleeping well, and she slept with a gun and two knives. He slept with a knife too, but at least he slept.

Henry had woken up this morning to Emma and August talking. Apparently August had taken to sleeping outside of their apartment. Emma wouldn't have it. She told him that if he wanted to sleep there he could take the couch, since she knew Granny's could be a bit expensive, especially if he wasn't going to really be sleeping there.

Snow White and James were already overbearing enough, trying to get them to come live with them in their house, but Emma had refused point blank. She'd lived without them and survived well enough for 28 years. She could still live on her own, but Henry noticed her missing Snow White a lot. They took a lot of trips over to their house for frivolous reasons, and while Emma was still having trouble with James being her dad, she had little to no problem with Snow White being her mom. They also knew that Emma needed her space, and, well, with a couple who were acting like newlyweds all over again, he didn't think Emma could stomach it.

He still had the coolest family. He wondered if they would all live in the castle together when they got back, or if Emma would want to go questing. Because if Emma was going questing through the Enchanted Forest, then he so was going with her.

Sean had remembered his identity when Prince James had told him about it in confidence, but Ashley was having a harder time even with Snow's well versed words. She was point blank refusing to believe that she had been seven months pregnant for 28 years. That was a scary thought, Henry realized with a shudder, and he knew more about it then he wanted to already. That and Ashley didn't want to believe that she and Sean had already been married after so much wedding planning in this world.

But Ashley was coming around. What they had been most worried about was that Alexandria, she and Sean's daughter, who had been born in this world. What did that mean for her? Would she go back with them, or be forced to stay here, alone and abandoned? The two royals did not like to think on it.

It hadn't been a thought that had crossed Henry's mind until recently. He had been born here. And he was only half from the Enchanted Forest. If Alexandria was something to worry about, what did that make him?

He picked up the Once Upon A Time book, and gazed at it searchingly, as if it would tell him the answer. But he knew it wouldn't.

"Hey Emma?" he asked, and she looked up at the quavering note in his voice.

"What's up, Kid?" she put down some of his clothing she had been refolding. They had packed in a bit of a hurry.

"I- I was born in this world- and my dad was from Earth," he stared at the book in his hands before staring up at Emma, "What if I don't get to go back with you?" he wanted to know, looking at her earnestly.

"Then I won't go," Emma shrugged, standing up from her crouch over a box.

Henry frowned, "I don't think you'll have a choice."

"Do I ever not have a choice?" Emma grinned conspiratorially, and Henry couldn't help but giggle at that. She made her way towards him, weaving through the mess of boxes to reach him. "Don't worry Henry. If anyone deserves to go back, it's you." She hugged him around the shoulders, leaning back against the couch like he was.

He grabbed her, "Emma, I don't want to be stuck here!"

It was obvious he'd shocked her, because she paused before she said warmly, "It's a good think you're going to come with us then." She ruffled his hair, and he smiled at her. She returned it steadily, and he knew she wouldn't ever leave him. She was the best mom ever. "And it's too early to be worrying about that right now. We have to catch Regina first."

That was true.

Henry could feel the tension of the curse rising. The final battle, the one prophesied, was going to come to pass soon. And if Henry was going to be any help at all, he had to be ready.

He was going to ask James if he would teach him how to sword fight, and Snow White if she could teach him to fight hand to hand like she could. He wanted to ask Emma to teach him to shoot a gun, but he decided he'd better learn from his grandparents first before he went to his mom. His mom would probably tell him that he wasn't allowed to learn to fight at all, and if he'd already learned from Snow and James, then at least he would have gotten that far in his education.

He would ask the Blue Fairy to test him to see if he could use magic. If he could, he would learn right away. Magic was something he thought he'd be extra good at, and if Emma could do it, didn't that mean that he could too?

He wanted to be able to help in this war. And he wanted to be a Knight of the Enchanted Forest. He wanted to be on the War Council, and to be as legendary as his family was.

"Are we going to kill her?" Henry asked Emma after a moment, and from the look that filled Emma's eyes, he could tell she knew exactly what he was asking.

He needed to know.

Even though Regina was evil, even though he knew she needed to die, he needed to know if Emma was really going to do it or not.

Emma was the true hero after all. She would be the one to slay or to capture the Evil Queen. It would be a problem for her to decide. He knew she wanted to kill her, but he also knew Emma had a moral code, as did every good hero. He just wanted to – no- he just needed to know what she was planning, so he would know what to do in return.

She looked away from him, not meeting his gaze. Her voice was full of uncertainty as she answered, "I don't know."

Henry nodded.

He couldn't tell her what to do. This was her decision. She was the White Knight. She was the savior. He had no say on what she should do. He would respect her decision either way.

She smiled at him then, an Emma smile. He liked her smiles- but then again, didn't every kid like their mom's smile? She was trying to lift the mood. "You know what? I'm tired of all this unpacking. Let's go get some cocoa from Granny's."

"With cinnamon?"

"With cinnamon."

She sent him to get his shoes, and she threw on her leather jacket.

As Emma locked the door behind them, Henry grinned. They lived there together now. He was living with his real mom. His grandma was Snow White. His grandpa was the Prince Charming. What on Earth could be cooler?

They were down the stairs and walking out to Granny's when Ava and Nicholas buffeted into him on the sidewalk.

"Hi Henry!" Nicholas shouted as he ran past.

"Hi Nicholas!" he told the littler kid. Henry smiled at Ava as she skidded to a stop, "Hi Ava." She smiled at him, and he liked her long pretty blonde hair in braids. It looked a lot like she had popped right out of his story book.

"See you Henry! We're going to see our dad at work!" Nicholas told him, half stopping to wait up for his sister. "C'mon Ava!"

"Bye Henry," Ava smiled sweetly before turning and catching up to her brother.

"You kids be careful!" Emma called after them, before Henry looped his hand in hers, taking her to Granny's. He wanted to see if Ruby remembered being Red anymore. If so, then they really, really needed to find that red hood. He wondered if Rumpelstiltskin knew where it was. He probably knew where a lot of things were, but he hadn't left the hospital since he and Henry had gone there four nights ago. It had really freaked them out to see a dead man up and about, and a dead man insisting that he stayed with the other victim meant that he got what he wanted. Especially because he was Mr. Gold, the town menace. Well, he wasn't the town menace anymore really, but the rest of the town didn't know that.

Rumpelstiltskin without magic though was kinda… well, less Rumpelstiltskin-like. It wasn't his fault, he knew, because it was true love, but now he wasn't going to be much help in the war. He wasn't much of a warrior, Henry remembered that much at least.

Henry had hoped to learn magic from him someday. Now he didn't think that was going to happen, not with him being magic-less. It would have been dark magic though, and Henry was pretty sure he didn't want to learn dark magic. It was evil. Learning from the Blue Fairy would be a lot better, and a lot healthier probably.

His gaze was wandering along the blue skies when he spotted the kite.

He followed the string to find its owner.

It was Paige, and her dad Jefferson, the Mad Hatter. It was a sunny, breezy day, and they had set up a picnic across the street, with stuffed animals and tea cups. A tea party, he realized with a smile, the one her father had promised all those years ago.

Now they had abandoned it for a brightly colored kite, and Paige was giggling as the aerial object swooped in and out and around. Her father was running about as though it were terribly difficult to control, a monster or a dragon, instead of a piece of fabric held aloft in the spring air.

Henry beamed in passing. Paige waved, smiling, calling out, "Hi Henry!" He waved back. He'd always liked Paige in class. She'd always been nice to him, and she had pretty dark eyes. Now she was happier than he'd ever seen her, and hugged her dad. He bent and planted a kiss on her head.

Real parents were the best.

"After we go to Granny's, we should go see Grandma and Grandpa," Henry beamed.

"Don't call them that," Emma said immediately.

"Why?" Henry wondered aloud.

"Because it's weird," Emma made a face, "Mary- Snow White's younger than me."

Henry shrugged, "She did live in a time warp for 28 years."

"Why does everything in this town sound like an episode of the X-Files?" Emma sighed, and Henry grinned.

"It's totally cooler than the X-Files," Henry informed her, sounding a little scandalized.

"That's for sure," Emma agreed with a nod, and looked down at Henry's startled and joyous face, "What?" she ruffled his hair with her free hand, "It's not every episode of the X-Files that you get to be stuck in a fairy tale."

Emma was learning to like this, and Henry couldn't help but love that. She was going to be a Knight worthy of any fairy tale ever, let alone one of the Enchanted Forest.

"We're not in a fairy tale yet," he told her as they entered the gates to the diner, "We're just in Storybrooke. Wait until we get to the Enchanted Forest, Emma, it's going to be amazing!" Henry beamed as they walked up the steps to Granny's.

"I know it will be," she smiled, and held the door open for him to enter.

They sat down at Granny's and Ruby took down their order. And though Henry knew it wasn't over yet, that there was a battle to end all battles to come still, he was happy. Truly happy. He wouldn't have it any other way, then to sit across from his mom at Granny's Diner, and sip hot chocolate with cinnamon, and giggle when his mom got whipped cream on her face.

He had the best life ever.

**A/N: And now I'm enjoying the emotion on your face, because here you were expecting me to write a fluffy Rumbelle scene, and what you got was Henry (though he's by far second best). AND, for you Hatter fanatics out there (Yes **_**You**_**) because I am one, I had to throw that tidbit in there! So that was a little something something, right? *grins with a giggle***

**Again, no, not related to the Evil Queen. Just. **

**Evil. **

**Also, here is my theory on who August is, and why I still reserve judgment. **

**He is either Baelfire, or Pinocchio. And I REALLY want him to be Bae, but I'm seriously doubting it. I think that the writers are trying to make us believe it's going to be Bae, but in the end, it's going to be Pinocchio, because the episode titled "The Stranger" has Gepetto in it. And Bae would have to be hundreds of years old. I'm just not sure how he could manage that. And the whole thing where August can't tell lies. Pinocchio. Anyways… yeah, So I'm hoping hoping HOPING it's going to be Bae. But it's going to be Pinocchio. And that's why I'm reserving judgment. They just better make it cool! What am I saying, of COURSE it's going to be cool! It's Once Upon a Time!**

**And also, my A/N is really long again. Someone said in a review that I really enjoy this… I suppose I do… haha! XD**

**Until next time, dearie! ;)**

**(And I promise this next chapter is crazy long, and you will enjoy it because it has ALL the Rumbelle fluff! It will make up for nothing now!)**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: … You Guys. **

**1001! **

**1001! 1001 Reviews! **

***DANCING ABOUT WILDLY!* WE MADE IT WE MADE IT WE MADE IT! **

**GUYS! I can't BELIEVE this! XD You are ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! TRULY THOUGH! **

**YOU ARE AWESOME! **

**And THAT is why I'm posting early!**

**You deserve it. **

**This is for all of those who missed the Rumbelle fluff the last chapter, this is for you.**

**I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! **

**But contrary to popular belief I am not going to be doing the Epic Last Battle. I don't know, I think it's for the authors of the show to do, because whatever they have in store is going to be absolutely amazing, and I just don't think I could do it justice. I'm really sorry…**

**This chap is to wind it all down. It's full of a little angst, but mostly fluff. After the last few chapters of angst and horrors, I feel like you deserve it. **

**ALSO.**

**I have decided that if we reach 1111 reviews that I will write a spin off fic. Just a one shot. And it will be up to you. YOU get to vote. But there will be more in the other author's note at the end. :)**

Chapter 36

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

It had been five days now, he thought as the sky outside her window turned light gray. Dawn was coming. Five nights, as though he hardly needed counting.

Five days since she had been taken to the hospital.

She had awakened once, and only once, and that had been yesterday.

Misty eyed she had woken with a gasp. He had leapt to his feet, to get to her side. He had grabbed her hand as she blinked up at him. Her voice had caught in her throat when she saw him, and then she smiled. He had smiled to, had brought her hand to his lips.

"Am I dead, then?" she asked in a quavering voice.

His reply had been choked, "No," he told her fervently, "No, you're very much alive."

Her smile had faltered, and tears had come to her eyes.

The nurses had rushed forward, had buffeted him out of the way, and by the time he had pushed enough of them aside, she had been forced back to sleep with a drug. He could have beaten them all to splinters with his cane. Sadly he didn't have it with him, and stabbing them over and over again with a needle seemed a little too slow a torture for his liking.

He was in the same clothes that he had been in the night of the Charity ball. He hadn't gone home yet. It was the reason he was without his cane and the reason he looked like such a terrible mess in a torn up tuxedo and a muddied matted mane of hair. He barely noticed though. He barely noticed anything but her breathing.

They had told him that he should leave multiple times. He had told them no, that he would stay with her. They probably wouldn't have let him stay if he wasn't the illustrious Mr. Gold, who could do whatever he pleased without asking. Even if he hadn't been, they couldn't have made him leave, even without magic. He had the town Sheriff on his side, who in turn had the Mayor on the run for her life. He had no intention of leaving her side until he knew she was alright.

If he had had magic this would not have been a problem. He could have kept them out of the room with any of several simple enchantments. However, it was lost to him.

It wasn't as though he was being kept from his magic this time around. That had been a different feeling altogether. It had been bottled, suppressed. Now, it was something, an empty. There was nothing to suppress, because he had nothing to be held in him. He could feel the emptiness within him, like a space in his body. He had the feeling that he always had before he had been the Dark One, all those centuries ago, but now, he knew about all the things he could do.

It was merely the whisper, a whisper that magic was there, and he no longer had the power to control it. There was that whisper that all the residents of the Enchanted Forest felt. If you were brave, and had the money, anyone had the ability to learn to use magic, to build up the stamina and the mental capacity to use it without having it kill you. Most people didn't risk it. It was why there were so many dark magic users, instead of good magic. People using dark magic felt like they had nothing to lose, and therefore went the easiest, most dangerous route.

And not everyone had this opportunity. There were people that had more of an advantage than others. He had learned from that being the Dark One that if he had had the money he would have been one of the great magic users, if he had had the opportunity to learn. It was one of the reasons why he had so easily transitioned into being the Dark One.

Now he was magic-less, an old sorcerer striped of all ability. Now he had to watch others do something he couldn't help with. He had never been able to heal however. Dark magic was incapable of truly helping others. It's one of the prices he'd had to pay being the Dark One. However being entirely magic-less made it worse for some inexplicable reason.

He lamented his inabilities, hated himself for being so helpless. It was worse than being Mr. Gold, far worse. He knew now he never had the capacity to protect her in the way he once could. And how well had he protected her then? She was in this bloody hospital with two holes burned through her. Now what could he do? Nothing. She was totally and completely susceptible. He could do nothing.

Now he had to let science do its work. It was slow, and it was tedious, and no one would give him a straight answer. It was more frustrating than he could express. All he could do was sit. Sit and watch her to see any signs of movement, of a different pattern of breathing even. He watched as they changed her dressings, watched as they checked her vitals, watched them throw him dirty glances because he was there in their work space.

Somewhere in this confounded hospital her father was recovering from his own wound, but he was fairing much better. He was awake, from what Rumpelstiltskin understood. He didn't deserve it. Belle deserved to be awake and well, not that coward…

Rumpelstiltskin deserved to be dead in the ground.

He had considered… he had considered going to the Blue Fairy, who had remembered who she was. He'd felt her pull in the fabric of magic, knew it because he had learned how to tell when and who was using magic. It was something one didn't need magic to know about.

However, he didn't know if the Blue Fairy would help him. He and the fairies had, well, they had a history, and to say the least he had murdered one for her wand. That said nothing about anything else that had happened. He hoped the Blue Fairy would forget his misdeeds in hopes to save her. Belle deserved life, deserved healing from her. If there was no change, or a change for the worse by midday, he would go to her. His pride, his hatred of fairies, didn't matter. Nothing mattered but her.

And if the Blue Fairy refused his request, well, then it was high time he called in that favor Emma owed him. He suspected the fairies would do anything to appease the White Knight prophesied of old, and Emma would surely agree to this cause. Anything to help out a friend.

Morning colored the sky outside in golden pinks and oranges. He watched it light her face, her serene face. Color had come to her cheeks within in the night. He hadn't been able to see, they didn't really keep lights on. It didn't matter. Color meant that science was working. Blood transfusions and what not, technicalities that he didn't care much for.

Her chest rose higher than normal. She took a deep breath, and her eyes blinked awake with the sunlight once more. His breathe caught as she stared out of the window. She always had been fond of mornings.

She looked away from the light, and met his gaze.

There wasn't an immediate smile. He didn't smile either, though relief flooded through his veins, made him stand.

"Am I dead?" she asked again.

Why was this something she wanted so badly? His heart ached at the thought of her passing, made his hands clench at his sides. That kind of turmoil, he'd dealt with it once, but now, now that she was all he had left, it was infinitely more painful to think on- why did she want to leave him?

"No," he said automatically, said stiffly. He felt the uncertainty of the situation get the better of him. He peered out of the door quickly, and found the nurse on hand was soundly asleep at the desk. He looked back at her, and Belle was gazing at him steadily, studying him. He stepped forward, to her side, not sure what to make of this. Not sure why he was so hesitant- wasn't this what he wanted?

"Why are you here, then?" she wanted to know.

Her blue eyes were bright in the sun, her eyes being open at all were such a miracle to him, and he couldn't help but smile at her. Of course her first words would be questions. She was curious even after barely escaping death. She was escaping death, and the thought was as warm as the morning sun. She had always been the strong one, "You saved me," he told her.

"How?" she questioned. Her face was still so calm. There was no returned smile there. It was, unsettling… It was as though she were being cautious. Cautious around him?

He pulled up his chair next to her, sat in it, before pulling out the handle of the tea cup that she had bestowed on him five nights ago, "Well, I'm not quite sure. I know I had reserves of magic in the tea cup, so even the handle alone held some magic. Regenerative, I'm sure. I didn't really mean to store magic there. It happens to all things magical people own. I'm sure you've heard of seven league boots? Some of them aren't intentionally made. Sometimes magic gets stored in things that you wear often, or touch, and magic becomes familiar to them just as it does to the person. I owned a pair once by sheer accident. It was quite obnoxious really. Had to trade for them.

"Anyways, I think that, and the dagger- along with your – kiss… Neither magical object would have worked without that you see. True Love's magic is the most powerful of all, and it ignited, whatever it was that brought me back." He thought that she would have liked to hear that, but when she still held that careful expression, he could only repeat lamely, "You saved me."

She continued to stare at him without expression. "And- your wound- your lung-."

"All healed. My knee's even healed," he stood up again with ease just to show her there was no ache there. When he looked into her face again, he found himself stammer, "I'm- fit as a fiddle, really." He sat back down again with a huff.

"And," she stopped herself, "and you're sure you're not-," she reached for his hand, and he took it in an instant, and she sighed, but continued, "that I'm not-."

He understood what she was asking, "Positive." He was positive about that. He was sure that she wasn't dead. If they were dead they wouldn't be in the same place.

She looked at him sharply, "Prove it."

"If you and I were dead, we wouldn't be together. There are much higher planes of being for the likes of you, my dear," and he caressed her hand in both of his.

She looked away from him, "That doesn't prove anything."

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. He would say anything, anything if it would convince her to smile.

"Something quite more imaginative, and far less sentimental," she told him with a quirk at her mouth. It wasn't really a smile, but, it was hopeful. She was hoping at least.

It was true. He was being far too sentimental. He didn't know what had gotten into him. Maybe dying did that to a person- it made one cherish more about people than one previously had.

"After having a hole burned through me, I _have_ found myself a lot more sentimental than usual," he shook his head slowly, before flipping the hair out of his eyes, "You'll have to forgive me, my dear. I'll work up my sarcasm again as soon as you're out of this blasted place, never you fear."

She smiled at that, shaking her head, and it was so good to see, even if it was a skeptical smile. "You're not being very convincing."

He rubbed both of her hands in his, his eyes flickering up to meet hers, "I promise you, in heaven there would be a lot less medical equipment."

She laughed, a bright ringing sound that he reveled in. She smiled at him, and it was real. It spread joy across her entire face, and he watched as she tried to sit herself up, and winced as she shifted bandaging of some sort.

"Don't," he told her, standing up immediately to press her shoulders back into the pillows, "stay."

She shook her head, a broad smile over her face as she looked up at him, "You're real-."

"I conscientiously believe so," he agreed, his hair falling around his face.

She made a face at him, "And you're ruining it."

He furrowed his brows at her, "How so?"

She was trying to keep from smiling now, and he wished she wouldn't, "You're quoting things out of my own head, and it makes it so very uncertain."

Ah, she was thinking of one of her new much loved books, "Jane Eyre would be one of your favorites. That's why I read it."

She frowned, "You're still not helping."

He bent to her face, as though to kiss her, halting a breath from her mouth. He stared into her eyes then, and felt mischief creep into them. "Does this help?" he whispered. Her eyes were wide, startled, expectant. Waiting for him to kiss her. He smiled then, and kissed her forehead, before sitting back on the seat and watched for her frustration. Which disappointingly didn't come.

"It _is_ you," she smiled brightly, her eyes keenly following him, and she reached out her hands for him again.

"Finally," he relaxed into his chair, and took her hands. She smiled so brightly, he could barely keep up the façade of mischievous manic. "Now that we've got that out of the way, let's say we discuss more important things."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "More important things?"

"Why certainly." He interlaced his fingers through hers.

"More important things than figuring out whether I'm dead or not?" she was trying to be miffed, he could hear it, but she was really too happy to be anything but. He was the same.

He shook his head at her, "I keep telling you, when death do us part you're going in one direction and I'm going another."

She tilted her head at him, "We'll fix that."

Always so confident, "Ages of misdeeds are a lot to correct, dearest."

"Then I'll just become the Wicked Witch of the West," she teased.

It wasn't funny. "You'll do no such thing," he said darkly.

She grinned, "We'll see what we can do," and then she seemed to notice something, "Why are you such a mess?" she demanded.

He blinked, and then registered, looking down at himself. He felt embarrassed. He hadn't thought about what he'd look like to her when she'd woken up. All he'd wanted was for her to wake up. "I haven't-," he stuttered, and ducked his head.

"And how long have I-?"

"Not long," he answered promptly.

"How many days?" she pressed.

"Five," he answered, feeling abashed.

"Five days?" Belle withdrew her hands, making him look up at her. She had placed bother of her hands on her hips, but the gesture wasn't nearly as scolding as it meant to look since she was lying down. "Rumpelstiltskin if you haven't left my side this entire time I'll be sure I'm dead. Don't you have better things to be doing than looking after me?"

"Not really," he said with a hopeful half smile.

She shook her head, and leaned upwards slightly to get a better look at him. "You're a filthy mess. At Dark Castle I would have made you take a bath immediately."

"Ah, Dark Castle," Rumpelstiltskin leaned back in a stretch, folding his arms behind his head, "Home sounds so peaceful right now."

She nodded, looking reminiscent, "It does." He couldn't help but feel the warmth spread through him at her words. Dark Castle was their home. "How is everyone?" she asked him.

He looked away from where he'd been looking at the ceiling, leaning towards her again, "Everyone? My, my, you expect me to know quite a lot don't you."

She rolled her eyes, and started off smaller, "How is Henry?"

Henry. The boy had visited Belle every day. Yesterday, when he'd heard Belle was recovering enough to wake up, he'd been almost too cheerful. "The little princeling wants to take up sword play, the last I heard." And if he brought that fake sword anywhere near Rumpelstiltskin's face again, he would take the wooden object and chuck it out of Belle's hospital window.

"Fitting," Belle nodded in approval, "How about Emma? Is she adjusting?"

"Rather well, actually. The real witch hunt hasn't started quite yet, but with the chaos in the town, it's not going to be far along," he was trying to edge around that fact, but she asked the right question next.

She was hesitant however, "Did- did the Queen?"

Rumpelstiltskin looked down, "She escaped." True loathing swallowed him again. If he had magic at this moment she would be dead. More than dead. She would be flogged, maimed, subjected to her precious scourges and flaying. He body would be torn apart, inch by bloody inch, strewn about the streets and burned to ashes in magic fire. Her head? He was still debating a spike and a cage, which ever would be more convenient for the eaters of carrion to gnaw at.

Now he could only ball his fists into claws, and hate that he was helpless.

She looked determinedly at the window, her blue eyes full of steel. "I'd better get well soon, then, if I'm going to be useful."

He looked up, though he wasn't surprised. It was his lovely little Belle after all, "You've been quite useful enough," he said, sitting back and self consciously straightening his thoroughly ruined clothing, "I have a nice cellar I plan on locking you in while the whole thing blows over."

Her eyes flashed, "You will not."

He raised his eyebrows at her challenge, "I shall, and I will get someone to guard the entrance."

Her anger lessened, "You won't be there to protect me?"

"No." No he would not. No woman loved a coward, and he was tired of running. He had a score to settle with a witch, "I'll be in the middle of it, quite probably." Especially if he planned on killing Regina himself.

"Fighting?" she sounded dismayed.

He was a little annoyed, "Such a hard concept?" If a grasshopper could fight in this coming war, he bloody well could.

"No," she tilted her head, a smile stealing over her delicate face, "I rather like the image of you with a sword." Ah, she had remembered that if he was alive, it meant that he had no magic, "And I always wanted to take up archery."

He kept his response light, "You can practice in that cellar of yours."

She frowned, "You're not keeping me in a cellar."

He smiled, the challenge accepted, "Watch me."

"Rumpelstiltskin," she sighed, looking from him to a corner of the room, her eyes annoyed, and that little crease in her forehead appeared, "You can't hide me away."

He decided to change the subject, since she couldn't get it through her head that there was no way that she was winning this one, "Anyways, who knows if that's how the battle will be fought. It could be all magic, with Emma being magical."

She smiled at that, "Then we had better go ask someone to teach us war magic."

Why was she always trying to thwart him? "Magic takes time, lengths of it." There would be no way that learning magic in that amount of time would do either of them any good. And it was far too dangerous to her. Magic was a skill for the desperate or for the brave. He didn't care if she was the latter, she was not learning it.

She leaned closer, her eyes dancing, "Nothing worth anything ever came easily," she told him.

He gritted his teeth. "You're going to be in a cellar, remember?"

She was gaining confidence; not a good sign, "I want to see this cellar that you're so certain can hold me."

So did he, "You've never been in a war, dearest, nor do I ever want you to be a part of one."

"I think I'll make that decision for myself, thank you very much," she nodded curtly.

They sat in silence for a moment. He was fuming, but he didn't want her to be truly angry with him yet. He wasn't going to argue further.

"Look at us," she shook her head, "Not even ten minutes of me being awake and we're arguing."

He smiled somberly at that. "It's part of our nature I suppose."

She smiled right along with him, "I suppose it's true." She moved on, and he was grateful, "How is my papa?"

He was happy to answer that question, "He's well, from what I hear. He's awake, and healing."

She nodded with a warm smile, "And Nicholas and Ava?"

He was surprised at that particular question, though he remembered then that they had been at the scene when Regina had taken Belle captive into the woods, "The Tillman's children? I heard them running about the street yesterday." Rather loudly too. He'd heard them even through a closed window. "They seemed rather spritely."

"Good," she was pleased. "How are their Majesties?"

Inevitable question, "They've moved in together. I suppose since they were married once that I have no right to raise an eyebrow, but the rest of the town is somewhat in a state of shock."

"Excellent. I'm glad." She would be. "How long am I going to be stuck here?"

Ah, another inevitable question, "I don't know," he answered truthfully. The idiot doctors hadn't given him a straight answer this entire time, trying to get him to go home instead.

She sighed, not hiding her frustration very well, "If we're going to capture the Queen, we're going to need all the hands we can get."

He shook his head at her immediately, "Not your little hands, my dear."

She pursed her lips, and changed topics again. "What news on that front?"

"They're recreating the war council of old." Henry had said something of the like, telling him in detail about when each meeting was, well, actually, Emma and Prince Charming had come to ask for his help. He had responded with an assurance that he was not leaving until Belle recovered. They had, unlike the hospital personnel, understood.

Belle's eyes brightened at that news, "And you're in it, yes?"

She thought too highly of him, "They've offered me a seat, though I'm not sure what help I would be. I'm skilled in neither tactics or in anything else for that matter." Now that he had no magic, he was useless. Completely useless.

She shook her head at him, "That's a lie. You know the Queen better than anyone else. You could give them insight on that front. You know about the uses of dark magic, and you know how to plan. You can make better plans than anyone else in the world, I'd wager," her smile was a supportive one, "And, I have to say you have several artifacts that could hold great sway over the outcome."

She saw the good even in a washed up old sorcerer. He thought about it momentarily.

"When is their meeting?" she asked eagerly.

He tried to remember what Henry had said, "I - don't know."

"Go find out!" she ordered, startling him.

He looked at her as though scandalized, "I'm not-."

"If you think that I'm going to let you sit here wasting away by me until I can get out of this hospital, then you've got another thing coming." She made a shooing motion with her hands as though brushing him away, "Go!"

He didn't try to suppress his smile, "I'd like to see you make me leave."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Don't make me get up."

He snorted, "My dear, let's not test anything yet- Belle! Sit back down!"

The impudent girl was sitting up, and it was causing her copious amounts of pain by the look on her face. He leapt up, his hands on her shoulders to force her to stay dormant, but she was obstinate as always. She looked up at him with a determined smile, "Go find out when the war council is, and then come back to tell me what happened."

He shook his head angrily, "I'm not-."

She cut him off, "And could you bring back one of your elementary spellbooks? We can start practicing-."

"You can start practicing magic when you're fully healed!" he snapped through gritted teeth as she still tried to push herself up, "Sit _down_!"

She stopped wrestling with him, with a smug smile, "Then go."

He glowered at her, "You're impossible."

"I've learned from the best," she tilted her head at him pointedly, "I'll be right here when you get back."

He was fuming, "I'll be back soon," he growled at her.

"I know you will be," she smiled sweetly.

He kissed her forehead again. "I love you," he told her with bitterness.

She laughed at that, "I love you too," she said more sincerely. She bent her head so that she barely missed kissing his lips. He couldn't help himself this time, and kissed her full on. She broke away from him with a giggle, and he crooked his head at her curiously. She pushed at his chest, "Now _go_."

He looked back at her when he reached the door to her room, and she pointed at him to go with a smile still on her lovely face. Determined, beautiful creature. He would love her until he died no matter how much he didn't want to. "And take a bath!" she called after him as he left. He tried to suppress a smile, but it didn't work.

There was something he had to fix, though, before he went.

He slammed his hand down onto the nurse's desk. The nurse awoke with a jolt, and stared in horror at the town's monster's most terrifying face. "If _anything_ happens to her while I'm gone, I'm holding _you_ personally responsible."

The nurse couldn't even speak, so he was pretty sure the message had been clear.

He paced out of the hospital still shaking his head. How had she managed to make him promise to go to this stupid war council again?

~: Belle :~

She dozed off after he left, for several hours, only to wake up to a frightened nurse sitting trembling in a corner, staring at her.

At first Belle didn't know what to make of her. She was a terrified little thing, and then two thoughts clicked in her head. Belle made a face.

"He's told you to watch me, hasn't he?" she asked the nurse, sounding a little drier than she meant to.

"Um- y-yes," stuttered the nurse. "Is there-?" but she fell short.

Belle shook her head with a smile, "You don't have to. He won't hurt you."

"That's n-not what he said." Poor thing. He must have terrified her out of her wits.

"He pretends to be more vicious than he is," Belle told her, and added, _Most of the time_, in her head.

"I – I don't know- he beat up your dad pretty good," the nurse pointed out.

"Yes, well," Belle felt her smile turn grim. "Don't worry about him. You can go help the other patients," she reassured her.

The nurse nodded her thanks, before stopping at the door, looking back in confusion, "Are you two- I don't know, are you two-?"

She smiled kindly, but didn't give her the answer she was looking for, "I'm sure they need more looking after than I do."

The nurse left, and Belle fell back into her pillows. She wasn't exhausted, per say, because she had been asleep for so long. No, it wasn't exhaustion. But she was tired. Oh she was tired. She felt like someone had gone and bruised every nerve in her body, and now she was trying to recuperate. But… she was happy. Because the ache meant that she was real. And that he was real.

Rumpelstiltskin had waited to make sure she was alright. He could have been off scheming, but- she didn't think she could ever express how much she loved him. She didn't think she could even begin to describe- she smiled at the thought, felt tears prick her eyes, and then felt really silly, pressing a hand to her mouth.

He was so lost without his magic- she had sensed that. She knew he felt helpless, but he was so much more than magic. He understood others a way no one else could, and could exploit any side he so chose. He was talented and fickle, teasing and prosperous, cunning and quick.

He was the king of all tricksters, the sharpest tack, the brightest bulb, the most enigmatic, the one with the very most forethought, the one with the most potential for the forces of light or dark, and he could be both without ever choosing.

He was everything she loved in the world, the twist at the end of the story, the strongest in his own way. His personality was layered; he was arrogant, yet humble, he was finicky, yet loyal, a coward, yet braver than any lion, and he was a difficult man to love, yet loving him was so easy. What she wouldn't do for him, for him to understand how much he meant to her. He didn't need magic for any of that.

She would help him learn magic again if it meant that much to him. He could never be the Dark One again, never have as much power, but they could learn. He could learn. Once he had hope again, Belle would not continue. She would let him have that realm- it was all his in her mind.

The only problem was that it was dangerous. She hoped that he would be cautious. There were stories of sorcerers and alchemists who believed they could do more than they had power to control. It was how the Dark One had been created, how the Genie of the Lamp came to pass. She didn't know if she could deal with another curse like that, but for now, if it would help- she would help him restore his magic. It couldn't be as hard as all that, could it?

There was a knock on the doorframe, startling her from her reverie.

She peered over to find, "Ashley?"

The blonde smiled half heartedly with a shrug, "Well, I guess its Ella now, but I heard you were awake and I had to come and see you!"

Ruby stepped up behind her, holding up a hand, "Same here."

Belle couldn't believe it, "Ruby?"

"Red," Rub- Red corrected with a similar expression to Ashley's.

"You've both got your memories back?" Belle could only smile, sitting up as they entered the room. Ashley took a seat, while Ruby stood.

"Yup. It's kind of scary, though. Emma and Mary Margre- I mean, Snow White," Ruby shook her head, "This is so confusing. They're coming to visit soon too. They're just in War Council."

"Why aren't you both in War Council?" Belle wanted to know. The princess with the glass slippers and a werewolf on their side had to be valuable assets.

"I didn't want to," Ashley answered with another shrug. "I have Alexandria to watch after. The babysitter can't be there all the time, especially when they're having them twice a day."

"Ditched when it was going in circles," Ruby said nonchalantly, "Until then," Ruby gestured widely at the room.

"Anyways, I thought I'd give you this," Ashley handed her a beautifully hand crafted card. Belle opened it up to look at it.

"A wedding invitation?" she asked, in surprised delight.

Ashley smiled at her encouraging tone, "Yeah, we're moving up the date. I want to have my wedding here, since I've already planned it all out."

Ruby rolled her eyes, "Even though she's technically already married."

"Shut up!" Ashley scolded affectionately, before turning back to Belle, "So you'll come?"

Belle nodded, "Yes, of course."

"And I suppose I'll have to invite Mr. Gold," Ashley said reluctantly, "even though he'd planned on stealing my baby." Belle bit her lip, but watched as Ruby hit Ashley in the arm until she yelped, "Fine. You'll want to sit by him for dinner, then?"

"I- think so?" Belle wasn't really sure what customs on weddings were here, but she was sure that sitting next to Rumpelstiltskin couldn't be a bad thing, "I'm not quite sure what that means?"

"It means you guys are dating," Red said bluntly.

"Dating?" and then she remembered Emma asking about Archie to see if they were in love. If dating meant love, then, "Yes," she smiled fondly. "Yes we're, dating." What a weird way to put it, like a relationship was a calendar or something

"Why?" Ruby asked with a disparaging tone.

"He's so creepy!" Ashley exclaimed, her hands in the air.

"Isn't he dangerous?" Ruby wanted to know.

"No, no," Belle waved her hands to ward off the ridiculous notion, but then remembered the nurse from earlier that he'd terrified, "Though I can't say that he'd never hurt anyone. He's not quite kind, or gentle, but he's – well," she had to stop and think about what he was.

Ashley didn't give her much time to think on it, "If you say so."

Ruby- Red, shook her head at her, "You're weird."

Belle laughed with a quirk in her eyebrow, "Thanks, Red."

Ruby grinned, "Anytime," and then she leaned in, "Are you sure? I mean, I know a couple of guys that are way cute-."

Belle's face straightened, "No, thank you."

"True love can change-," Ashley prompted. "I think."

"Not in my case," Belle told her, trying to hide her annoyance.

"But-," Ashley tried again.

"Ashley, Ruby. I promise I don't want anyone else. I can't even imagine being with anyone else. I love him. I don't want to be parted from him," she told them. Early she had been trying to find words to describe how much she loved him. He was her hope, her dreams. She couldn't even think of it. "Not ever."

There was a slight moment of silence, before Ashley asked, "Are you guys going to get married too?"

She remembered how he'd promised to make her wishes come true, that night of the ball, "Yes, I assume so."

"So weird!" Ashley shrilled.

"What's weird?" it was Emma, leaning against the door frame of Belle's hospital room.

"What happened to war council?" Red asked.

Emma folded her arms, "It's over for the time being. We're convening again tonight," she looked past Red to see Belle, "How are you doing?"

"I'm good," she assured her with a smile.

A new raven haired head popped into the room, "Belle!"

"Snow!" the fairest of them all came at her with open arms, wrapping around her, quite a feat since Belle was lying down.

"How are you, sweetheart?" Snow wanted to know, pulling away to look at Belle's face

"I'm great. I'm feeling really good," she told her honestly.

"I think it's the morphine talking," Ruby stage whispered, "She's talking about marrying Rumpelstiltskin."

"She's in love with him." Emma shrugged herself out of the doorway as they all turned to stare at her, "That is what you're supposed to do when you're in love in fairy tales, isn't it? Happily ever after, and whatever?"

"Yeah, but, he's Rumpelstiltskin," Red said with her hands out in front of her.

"Red," Emma demeaned.

"But it's weird!" Ashley stood up for Ruby.

"Ella!" Snow White chided.

"What?" she sounded scandalized.

Snow White turned to Belle, and took both of her hands, "I'll be there, when you get married, no matter who you're marrying."

"I'm marrying Rumpelstiltskin," Belle said firmly.

"I know, but I wanted you to know that I'm happy for you," Snow White smiled serenely, "He's your True Love. Who can argue with marrying your True Love?" she looked pointedly at Ashley and Red.

"I guess I'll be there too," Red sighed.

"Me too," Ashley agreed, bowing her head in submission.

Emma just smiled at her supportively, putting her thumbs up uncharacteristically, and realizing it too late. Belle hid her smile.

"That reminds me!" Ashley exclaimed excitedly, "I know I haven't asked you guys yet, but, will you guys be my bride's maids?"

"Only if I get to wear red," Ruby put in.

"My colors are powder blue and white though!" pouted Ashley.

Everything was going over her head, making her a little dizzy.

"What are your colors going to be, Belle?" Ashley asked kindly, putting one of her hands on Belle's bed.

"Is one of them going to be gold?" Ruby wanted to know with wiggling eyebrows.

They burst into laughter.

"You all are silly," Belle told them affectionately.

"Count me out of this mess," Emma said, putting her hands up between the gaggle. "I have nothing to do with it."

"Good afternoon, ladies," her favorite voice with that familiar lilt broke into the room, startling all of them but Belle, who tried to peer through the crowd at him. They thankfully parted to look at him, and there he was, looking very clean, she noted with a small smile, "Do you mind if I steal her away?"

Snow smiled.

"Come on, guys, we'll find you some other bedridden girl to terrorize," Emma motioned in a sweeping gesture towards the door.

"Hey!" Ruby was somewhat outraged.

"We weren't terrorizing her!" Ashley sounded mildly appalled, but allowed Emma to drag her away, only peeking in again to say, "I'll come see you for your measurements."

"Measurements?" Belle asked, a little hesitant. What had she agreed to now?

Snow only smiled, "We'll see you later, sweetheart. Get feeling better, alright?" Snow told her, patting her hands before letting them go.

"I'll do my best," Belle promised.

"Bye Belle!" Ruby waved.

They all filtered out, leaving the room a lot less crowded and a lot more peaceful in their wake. Rumpelstiltskin still stood at the door, staring at her. He had cleaned up a great deal, in a new suit and washed hair. He had his cane too. But it was his lingering smile that she loved the most about it all, the way it made his eyes dance softly in the afternoon light.

"Hello," Belle said fondly.

"Hello," he repeated the greeting, stepping towards her finally, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," she told him, and when he tilted his head ever so slightly she promptly replied, "I promise I'm fine."

"You looked a little bombarded there," he noted, still pacing slowly towards her, and she realized he was holding something behind his back.

She heaved a sigh, "How can they be focused on weddings when there is going to be a war soon?" Belle wanted to know.

"Everyone deals with worry in different ways," Rumpelstiltskin shrugged idly, finally reaching her side, and noticed Belle leaning around him to see what he was carrying.

With a flourish he held up a book. Belle beamed as she read the title, reaching for it, "You brought it!"

He held it away from her eager hands. "Now, you have to promise me that you'll take it slowly."

"_We'll_ take it slow. You're going to learn too," she reminded him pointedly.

"I know more than you do, my dear," he told her somberly.

"I know that," she said cheerfully, "I'm going to need a tutor."

"The Blue Fairy can teach you," he sighed, sitting down in the chair Ashley had abandoned.

He was defeating her purpose entirely! "You sir, are not going back into dark magic."

"We're going to need it, from the sound of the war council," he leaned back into the chair, "I can learn it faster because I already know how to use it-."

"Just because it's easy does not mean its right," she retorted sharply. He looked away from her in obvious disagreement. She reached out her hands to his face, touching his freshly shaven skin with her fingertips, "Please," she asked him, staring into his eyes that darted up to meet hers as she implored again, "Please."

He took her hand and kissed her fingertip solemnly, "You're going to keep bothering me about this until I agree, aren't you?"

"You know me well," she smiled, wrinkling her nose in the process.

He sighed in defeat, "I will do my best to learn it your way, but if it takes too long then-."

Belle cut him off, reaching for the book again, "Well, let's get started then!"

He snorted as he let her have it, "Always eager to learn," he said gently, and she turned from cracking open the old tome to a page that read, "A Sorcerer's Pocket," to turn and smile at him, before leaning down to kiss him.

She broke away to inquire, "Does this make me the sorcerer's apprentice?"

He gave her a dry expression in response.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was when she sped read through a fourth of the book. It was the most basic magic book he had brought with him to this world, and he worried it was a little too advanced for her.

But she seemed to get the concept well enough- the fact that magic was all around them, that drawing it on yourself was what was hard, because taking too much meant certain death, that eventually you could store it within once you'd built up enough strength to hold it with you, a sorcerer's pocket as it was called, that took years to create to hold vast amounts of energy. Of course this was all theory for the moment; the actually drawing of energy and storing it within wasn't until a few chapters later.

She picked up everything so quickly, so he was surprised when she closed the book just as they were getting to the part on storing magic within one's self.

"Are you feeling well?" he asked with serious concern.

"Yes," she smiled truthfully. There was a glint of mischief in her eye that made him weary.

He sighed, hunching his shoulders in the motion. She wasn't telling him something.

"There's a war council again tonight, isn't there?" she sounded innocent. She looked pointedly outside to where it was dark now. They had been reading that book all afternoon, discussing the ties and weavings, and how it all worked together. Now she wanted him to go to a war council?

He narrowed his eyes at her. So that's what she was doing. "Yes, there is. But I'm going to skip it."

"No you can't. You have to keep me in the loop," she said encouragingly, "So we know what we need to do when the time comes."

He almost shouted at her. He wasn't going to lose on this front, not when it meant her safety above all else. "You're going to be in a cellar," he reminded her as calmly as he could through gritted teeth.

"_We're_ going to be in the middle of the fight, and we're not going to know what to do if you don't go," she told him, her eyes flashing, but she was still chipper. How she managed it he would never know.

"Belle," he growled.

"Rumpelstiltskin," she hummed, mimicking him. He could only glower at her, but watched as her face softened. "It starts soon. Go," she coaxed, gesturing towards the door, "And leave the book."

He stood to go. "Don't practice anything," he warned harshly.

"I won't," she smiled beatifically, and he turned away with a half hearted grumble, before her voice made him turn at the door, "I love you," she said sweetly, and he couldn't be angry with her. She was far too good. In both senses of the phrase.

"And I you," he half nodded, trying not to smile too much, before he turned to leave.

He was hoping that if he gave her everything now, that she would understand when he did lock her away from the battle without putting up too much of a fight. However, it was only steeling her resolve. He was going to have to do something drastic, like drug her, or put her under a sleeping spell. The question was to that if he could substitute a spinning wheel for something else-

And then he remembered he barely had any grasp of magic now. He sighed frustratedly, letting his cane click down on the pavement harder than was necessary.

Rumpelstiltskin took his cane with him now more for a weapon than anything else. He hardly used it for anything more than a prop, but he was fond of the thing, and it reminded him at least in this sordid world he still had some power without having to use magic.

He hadn't really tested his magic capability, hadn't wanted to be disappointed, but Belle had restored a small measure of hope in him. He knew the whisper of magic, especially with the rift in the curse enlarging with every passing hour, understood it now easily since Belle had reminded him to look for it as she read.

He remembered where he could store magic within him, felt along that pocket. It was easier to store magic, and use it later from there, because then that magic had familiarized itself with you, and was less likely to turn around and bite you in the back when you tried to bend it to your will.

As the Dark One, the pocket had been infinite. He'd barely had a grasp on the fact that there was indeed a pocket at all, because he could store so much magic within it that he barely ever skimmed its surface. As the Dark One he had been given the pocket AND the familiarized magic in one fell swoop. He'd never really considered anything but the magic, but the elementary spellbook had reminded him that all beginning sorcerers needed to learn to make one, which was the hardest part of sorcery.

He felt along that internal pocket now, opened it.

And stopped mid step.

Creating a pocket to store magic in was what took years for sorcerers to develop. He had been surprised to find that he had one still-

But the pocket was so vast!

He had only his magic removed! The Dark One's magic had been removed, but the pocket had remained! Was that even possible? He didn't have any references- the curse of the Dark One had never been broken before-

He had a sorcerer's pocket!

A large one!

An empty pocket, but a pocket none the less!

He wanted to turn back and go to Belle immediately, to tell her the amazing news! He had a sorcerer's pocket!

"Hi Rumpelstiltskin!" smiled Henry, startling him from his reverie. Such a chirpy little voice, "Are you coming to the War Council?"

"Little prince," Rumpelstiltskin acknowledged gruffly, hardly containing his emotion, "What are you doing here?"

Henry motioned for Rumpelstiltskin to go first into the apartment complex, forcing Rumpelstiltskin inside and blocking his escape route, "Well, since I know everyone's story the best, I know where everyone should be," Henry smiled, "And I live here."

"Should be- where?" Rumpelstiltskin wanted to know, leaning around as the boy basically maneuvered him up the stairs to Emma's apartment.

"Should be in the battle," Henry said as though that should be absolutely obvious, and opened the door to reveal a crowd of people Rumpelstiltskin had no interest in at the moment. He wanted to go tell Belle the news.

"Rumpelstiltskin, glad you could make it," Prince James thundered with a grin.

Royalty. Rumpelstiltskin stopped himself from shuddering, before taking his assigned seat in the middle of the mess of people, receiving glowers of loathing from half of the crowd, and weary glances from the other. Only Henry smiled at him as he took a bench seat next to him.

Emma's apartment had been turned into a literal war chamber. There was a radio that hummed in one corner, and the makings of an armory in another. The maps that Jefferson had created with 28 years of observation were pinioned to the walls, with pins in them. On the table was the best map, with pieces like chessmen strewn about it. Rumpelstiltskin was thankful that his seat had arms on it. Some only were stools, and Rumpelstiltskin could only slouch in satisfaction as the discussion started up again.

Prince James leaned on the table, gesturing to the people and to the pieces on the map on the table. Emma stood on her father's right, arms folded as she stared down the situation. Snow White had her feet slung up on the table, something that seemed rather uncharacteristic, but in this meshed up setting of both worlds clashing so violently, he wasn't quite sure what her characteristic was any more.

Next to Emma was August, then Archie, or Jiminy, whatever he was calling himself now, but he was still a man, so he was inclined to call him Archie, and then there was the werewolf clan, the swarm of wingless fairies, the hatless Hatter, Gepetto, the group of dawdling dwarves, and of course Prince Thomas, which made it full circle, with him and Henry nestled nicely between the twittering fairies and the insane hat maker. What a motley bunch they all were.

"We need to take more time teaching everyone to shoot a gun," Emma said bluntly. Rumpelstiltskin felt like groaning. Little knight thinking everything came down to modernized machinery.

"We don't have that many guns here in Storybrooke," Jefferson pointed out, rocking back and forth on his feet, and making Rumpelstiltskin entirely nervous by just standing there. Almost everyone else was sitting. Couldn't he take a hint?

"And bullets run out fast. Pick axes don't run out at all," Leroy reminded them grouchily.

"Yeah, but I'd rather shoot an ogre instead of run at it head on," August half chuckled.

"We don't even know if bullets pierce ogre skin," Leroy retorted.

Rumpelstiltskin sighed in frustration, leaning forward, "How many times have I told you that we don't even know if this will come down to weapons."

"If it does-," Prince James tried to say, but Rumpelstiltskin wasn't finished.

"If it does we will be very well prepared. Until that time," Rumpelstiltskin flourished his hands wide, "I think we need to get our dear Blue Fairy to start teaching our White Knight here magic. Maybe her child too."

Henry looked up at him pleased at that. Yes, he had learned long ago to appease royalty, but he rather liked this one, even if the princeling was too smug for his own good.

"Magic is dangerous though," Snow White said, looking to her child and her grandchild.

"Not if taught by the right person," Rumpelstiltskin waved a hand at the Blue Fairy, "Fairy magic is different than sorcerer's magic, and much easier to learn in a short amount of time."

"But a lot less reliable if you aren't a fairy," someone mumbled.

"Well there is that," Rumpelstiltskin nodded, "I suppose I could attempt to teach them sorcerer's magic, but, all in all, in the amount of time we have, I don't think it would be wise to do anything but."

"It says it's going to be a last battle," interjected the Blue Fairy haughtily. The Blue Fairy was opposed to anything he said, even if it cast her in a light as the superior being. "And if it's a battle we're going to need swords-."

He wasn't going to have it, "Yes a battle, a battle," he waved his hands in a sing song way, "but it never says what kind of battle," he put a hand flat on the table, "It could be a battle of wits for all we know, and if that were the case, we would lose, especially with as narrow minded as we are being," before he bowed from his seating position at Emma, "No offense your Majesty."

"None taken," Emma shrugged, nodding in approval at his statement.

"Why do we even invite him to come if he's going to be so argumentative?" the Blue Fairy wanted to know, jabbing a finger at him, annoyed.

Here they went again, wasting time arguing his purpose on the council. It had been a problem this morning. Rumpelstiltskin sunk down in his seat, and pressed his finger and thumb to the bridge of his nose. He had more important things to test out then sitting through this.

"He knows things about the Evil Queen that we don't," Emma said immediately, coming to his defense.

"And he knows how dark magic can be used-," Henry piped up.

"I can tell you all about dark magic," snapped the Blue Fairy, "Nothing good comes of it!"

Oh he hated fairies and their ignorant little minds.

"But," Rumpelstiltskin snapped and the room went silent with his little whiplash of a word, and he crept into a standing position, "you can't tell what she will do with her dark magic. Your little minds aren't capable of conjuring that amount of evil. That, _dearie_," he looked pointedly at the Blue Fairy, "is why you keep me around," and he sat back down to signify the end of his little vocalization, before signaling, "Now, if we can move on with Prince Charming's pointless battle tactics."

"He's killed countless people, and ruined countless more lives. Just because he's experienced True Love does not mean that he can be forgiven of these horrors!" the Blue Fairy declared.

"He was going to take my wife's child!" hotheaded Thomas was quick to her aid.

"Who knows if he's even on our side?"

True chaos was about to unleash itself upon the room before a voice snapped, "You guys!" Henry had climbed right up on the table, and was holding his arms wide to get everyone's attention, "Rumpelstiltskin isn't the problem here. He's on our side now, I'm sure of it." Confident child, wasn't he? "And we need him. So let's stop arguing and get back to the real problem here. The Evil Queen isn't going to rest until she gets her revenge, and we have got to stop her."

Snow White had sat up, "Henry's right. We need to stay focused," her hands were flat against the table.

"I've killed people," Red said, defiantly, "And you all still accept me. Why can't you all just accept him, at least until we get back home?"

"We need everyone we can get for our side," James added in his defense.

"We should lock him up!" one of the dwarves shouted. "We can't trust him!"

"Yeah!" agreed a few others.

"I'm done listening to this argument," Emma overrode everyone into silence, "So the next person who brings up whether Rumpelstiltskin is or isn't our ally will get a cheerful beating from me. You got it?" her piercing gaze swept the whole room, "Now, moving on."

Rumpelstiltskin sat back stunned as Henry hopped off the table. He never thought it would be royalty sticking up for him like this one day. He thought they would be screaming for his head right along with the rest, and now that he didn't have magic-

But he had a sorcerer's pocket.

Instantly the meeting became a lot less trivial. The problem was storing magic- he'd never really done it in great quantities before- and he'd done it using other, dark magic. He didn't exactly know where to begin from scratch. It would be his own magic this time, nothing dark to twist him into doing evil, nothing sinister. It would be all his.

He couldn't do more than drawn in a few wisps of the whispering magic though. Drawing in magic took concentration and, well, other magic. It was extraordinarily difficult to do both in the present circumstance, especially with the Blue Fairy throwing him dirty looks.

Maybe, when she got her precious little wings back, he would snip them off and use them in some sort of alchemist's experiment.

He was going to need a place to go, to draw in more magic- a more peaceful place. He'd never really been a Zen kind of person, but it was obviously going to need to find that- and he was going to need to reread the chapter on snaring magic.

"We need spies to go through the woods- Red, we're going to need you to scout out-."

He only heard tidbits of the conversation now. He was hoping it was coming to a close. That, or he could just leave soon. He didn't really feel the need to be there. If he was going to ensnare enough magic to be useful, he could use that as an excuse. Then again, he didn't know if he wanted anyone else to know that he was indeed useful again. He had his own agenda to keep after all.

He had enough to cast a very simple spell however. It was one that often used to amuse him.

He felt the magic spark through him, and he held up his finger in time as the tiny little flame flickered on the tip of his index finger. He smiled thinly, before extinguishing it.

There was hope for them in this war after all.

He got up quietly, hooking his cane in the crook of his elbow, and exited the meeting. He'd had enough of battle tactics to last him an age.

He was practicing flickering fire on and off the tip of his finger as he entered the hospital, something he used to do in that first century of being the Dark One because it had entertained him so. Now he could barely manage it half of the time he tried it. It was the good magic, and it hadn't been in the pocket long enough to be fully tamed. Dark magic wouldn't have taken so long, he was sure of it, but it would be a tad more dangerous

"You're back," Belle said with a smile as he entered, closing the spellbook.

"I'm back," he returned her smile with one of his own, and flicked the fire off of his finger tip, taking his seat next to her, "How are you feeling?"

"Really good," she nodded, "And it's not fair that you can light your finger on fire already," she sounded indignant. "Does that mean-?" she stopped, and looked up at him wide eyed- "You can't already-?"

"I do," he smiled, taking both of her hands in his.

"How do you have a sorcerer's pocket?" she gasped, her eyes bright in joy.

He smiled broadly, shaking his head as he let her in on his secret, "The Dark One's magic left me, not the pocket. I didn't even know- with the lack of magic I just assumed-."

She leapt forward to hug him, and he was left baffled in her arms. She was laughing, the sound so wonderful that he couldn't help but chuckle a little, and hold her to him, taking in the smell of familiar scent of spring that couldn't even be smothered by the hospital.

"I can't believe it!" she sang as she let go of him to look him in the eyes, "A bit of good luck at last!"

"I've had more than my fair share of luck, my dear," he smiled at her, truly happy, her hands slipping into his.

"A sorcerer's pocket," she breathed again, shaking her head, and she beamed, radiating joy. "How much magic have to drawn in?"

"Now there's the tricky part," he sighed, looking away.

"Here," she prompted, making for the book, "I was just reading about it-."

"We can look at it later," he told her, catching her hands again, because at this moment, all he wanted to do was be with her, and enjoy the fact that she was as happy as he was about this. She was always so good-

"You can already use a bit of magic too- it's hardly fair," she teased with a small laugh.

He suppressed a grin, "I've had centuries of practice, dearest. It's only fair I get a bit of a head start."

"A bit of a head start? You can light your finger on fire!" she praised, motioning with her hands, joyous to the point he couldn't help but smile.

"It's a far cry from what I once could do," he wondered if he could ever do what he had once done- but he was so grateful that he had what he did. He couldn't imagine now the bleak outlook he had only hours ago, of trying to recreate a sorcerer's pocket.

"You don't have to start completely from scratch," she smiled sweetly, and he wondered how on earth she got to be so good, and _by the gods_, why she loved him of all people. Not that he wanted that to change. Oh no, he didn't. He would keep her forever. "But you're doing it the right way, now."

The _right_ way, huh?

He shook his head at her, rolling his eyes, "You're determined to make me good."

She smiled, one of her hands brushing around his face, "We'll try it out on you, and then we'll see if it suits."

He looked at her dryly, "I never was one for choosing sides."

"I know," she said dismissively, "Choose sides this once, and I'll never make you choose sides again."

He narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly, "Now why do I feel like choosing sides once is permanent?"

"It's not," she replied smoothly, though she knew as well as he did that it wasn't the truth. She tried to keep her poker face, "It's just, better than being on your own side, and the good side always wins."

He raised his eyebrows wryly, "How do you figure that?"

She smiled through biting her lip, "Well, for one, the good guy always gets the girl."

Oh she knew how to play, "Does he now?" he asked, taking her hands in his again.

"Yes, he does," she bobbed her head, trying to keep from outright grinning.

He knew how to play too. "So what else is there on the good side?"

She gasped in mock horror, "'What else'? I'm not enough?"

He pretended revelation, "_Oh_, so _you're_ the girl the men get if they choose good."

"Only _one_ man, and yes," she corrected, nodding once and sounding very princess-like.

"Then I shall do my utmost to remain on this side," he brought her hands up to show exactly which side that was, "That is, if I'm this 'one man' you're talking about."

She twisted her mouth at him, but the smile was in her eyes, "Who else?"

He looked around, "I'm sure there are plenty of other-."

Belle cut him off immediately, "Now don't _you_ start," she snapped playfully.

"Start what?" he faked innocence.

"I'm having none of this. Either I remain at your side, or I am alone. Nothing else, no in betweens," she said firmly, and stoutly and he could only smile at her declaration.

He wrinkled his nose at her, playing the imp, "Sounds a little final, if you ask me."

"Good," his Belle replied curtly, "That's how it's supposed to sound."

"It's a deal then?" he asked evasively.

"What is?" she needed clarification.

His eyes flickered to hers in merriment, "That you're marrying me?"

She gaped momentarily in astonished elation, before finding her tongue, "Is that what you call a proposal?"

"Have I not proposed to you yet?" he pretended to be baffled.

"Um no, I'm pretty sure you haven't." She wasn't very good at hiding her smile, and he was glad. He would forever love the way it lit up her face.

He shrugged, "Well, I suppose that's coming then."

"I hope so," she smiled brightly, leaning in, "You _did_ promise to make all my wishes come true."

He pretended to be remembering, "I did at that, didn't I?" and he continued to ponder, "Seems like there weren't too many things on that list. It could all happen."

"I could make the list longer," Belle told him simply, teasingly.

"No, I rather like your list," he replied, though he wouldn't mind hearing her other ones, "I have a very similar one."

She looked happy at that, her eyes widening. "Can I know what's on your list, since you know mine so intimately?"

Ever the curious girl, "Oh no," he told her with a mischievous grin, "We wouldn't want to spoil everything, now, would we?"

"Even if we make a deal?" she half pouted, her eyes bright with the prospect.

"A deal, dearest?" he leaned closer, "I have everything I want. What could you _possibly_ have that I would trade for?"

"A kiss?" she proposed, hopeful.

"For a whole list? I don't think so," he shook his head, though the draw of her lips was enticing indeed. He could get more out of her though, he knew.

She made a face, her bright eyes narrowing, "This kiss did save your life, you know. You could be a little more grateful."

He had a hard time trying not to grin and give himself away, but his words did that for him, "I am grateful. I was merely thinking one kiss for every item on the list." And there went his idea, slipping right off his tongue, but he didn't really mind too much after he saw her expression.

That cheered her up, though she tried to keep her poker face intact, "I suppose I could agree to that."

He grinned wickedly, "Alright then." He stood to kiss her, and felt her hands pulling him close by his dress jacket. Touching his lips to hers sent a thrill through him- just as shocking and just as sweet as the first time they ever kissed, and he doubted he would ever get over how her taste, how the feeling of her mouth against his would ever diminish in any way. He felt dizzy, All too soon she was pushing him away.

"You now have to tell me one thing," she told him with a small, curt smirk. Belle smirking- it was a scary world.

He sat on her hospital bed. The first one was easy, and one that would come to pass soon. It was time to use his deal with Emma. "I wish that you will recover shortly." It didn't give anything away. Not that he hid from her, but that the art of teasing her was endless enjoyment to him. And it was a wish he wanted to come true. That, and that ridiculous fluttery insect of a person needed a bit of humbling. She would do anything for Emma when she asked, and Emma would do most anything for Belle. He liked this plan.

Sure enough, he had been right about her reaction. She gave him a disappointed look, "That doesn't count."

"Of course it does. That's my foremost wish right now," he told her smoothly, "Now tell me one of yours."

"That wasn't part of the deal!" she proclaimed, looking affronted.

He pulled a face, "I can back out of this deal right now." He jabbed his thumb behind him figuratively.

She pursed her lips, "What happened to honoring all your agreements?"

That was simple to answer, "I've turned over a new leaf."

She narrowed her eyes at him for being thwarted, "Fine. I wish that we could live happily ever after." She smiled softly at him, "No matter what happens next," she added, motioning to the ceiling as though it were the universe. "It's all I really want." She smiled bashfully, "But you knew that."

"That I did," he smiled at his lovely little Belle, and he took her one of her hands in his, leaning across the hospital bed to peer into her face. He pressed his forehead to hers so that her eyes met his, her beautiful blue eyes that he would love forever. He smiled shamelessly, his own eyes dancing, "And it's a deal."

**A/N: :) **

**I TOLD YOU IT WAS LONG. **

**And it was a lot of dialogue. **

**But I hoped you like it. **

**There is only one more chapter after this. … it just hurts to think about is all! Only one! T.T**

**Right! About the 1111 review thing! It wasn't purely my idea- it was Snow's- you know who you are. (sorry dearie, I can't write a whole sequel T.T no matter how much I would love to- you'll see why in the next chap)**

**So I've decided that if we reach 1111 reviews, then I will write a spin off fic of your choosing. You have to vote for your favorite one. **

**Here are the voting options ~**

**Their Wedding – cutest idea in my head for this! **

**The Birth of their first Child – XD Because it's wonderful!**

**The End of the Last Battle – because by the time I wrote this I thought maybe I could do it, but only the ending… maybe. **

**Rumple forcing the Blue Fairy to heal Belle – so funny! **

**Um… well, if you all band together and vote for another option, I'm good with that too! **

**Also, if anyone can catch my Easter Egg in chapter 1 of this fic I will write them a Rumbelle fic with a prompt of their choosing. ;) And that is everyone that catches it, not just the first person. So enjoy hunting! **

**The link for the Cover of this Story is here - ****http:/teddystwin(.)deviantart(.)com/art/Storybrooke-s-Tale-of-Beauty-and-the-Beast-294193484**

**I created it, and I know it's only line art, because I'm horrible with color and if anyone wants to color it I would be extraordinarily happy! Just send me a link when you're done! **

**And this is the playlist I promised! **

**Disarray - Lifehouse**

**Into the Fire – Thirteen Senses**

**Have You Got It In You? – Imogen Heap**

**Rescue Me – Kerrie Roberts **

**Safe and Sound – Taylor Swift and the Civil Wars**

**She is the Sunlight – Trading Yesterday **

**Iris – Goo Goo Dolls **

**Louder Than Thunder – Devil Wears Prada**

**The Kill – 30 Seconds to Mars**

**Your Biggest Mistake – Ellie Goulding **

**Gravity – Vienna Tang**

**Broken – Seether feat. Amy Lee**

**Poison and Wine – The Civil Wars**

**Glad You Came – The Wanted (for the Driving Scene, of course! I don't know about you lot, but I really love driving to this song) **

**Set the Fire to the Third Bar – Snow Patrol**

**The Fear You Won't Fall – Josh Radin **

**Swallow the Knife – Story of the Year**

**Already Over – RED**

**So Cold – Breaking Benjamin**

**Your Star – Evanescence (especially the beginning… after Rumple's death) **

**You'll Be Mine – The Pierces**

**Beautiful Day – U2**

**This is Home – Switchfoot **

**Of course you have your own playlist, and I'm sorry I couldn't use every wonderful song you told me about, and thank you again so much for all the wonderful music. **

**This is the longest Author's Note in the history of the world I'm sure of it. **

**Until next time, dearie! **

**~ Teddy **


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: It's been a pleasure, you all, to write this story. I really have enjoyed it, as I have enjoyed getting to know all of you. You have been the most wonderful reviewers, and I don't know if it would have ever gotten this far without you. **

**To those who guessed the Easter Egg in the first chapter, pm me. **

**And I have decided I am going to create a drabble story, instead of just a one shot. I decided, as I was reading through everyone's opinions, that there is so much to do still, and I can't just leave it all in a one shot… so I'm doing everything. **

**So those who have guessed the Easter Egg, you can find your one-shot in this drabble story, alright? :)**

**Anyways… I suppose that's all I have to say. I guess I still just don't want this to end, you guys! But I guess I will, and say that it has been such a pleasure, no truly. Thank you so much. :)**

**So without further ado…**

**Welcome to the last chapter. I invite you to relax, to pull up a chair, and let me proudly present, my epilogue. **

Chapter 37

-: Epilogue :-

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He awoke in the darkness of the bedroom. The curtains were drawn tight, just like he liked them. Sunlight and mornings never were his element.

With a groan he swung his feet to the cold, stone floor, rubbing one of his eyes. He could tell it was far too early for anyone with decent sleeping habits to be awake, but it was cold in the room. Too cold.

He stood lazily. Waking up was by far the worst part of the day. He infinitely preferred the night, the shelter of it. Still, even being "good" or whatever confounded side he'd converted to.

Pants, he reminded himself, his head still bowed. His neck didn't really want to hold up his head just yet. Pants were always a good thing.

He put on a pair he found at random- he would change into something more appropriate later – and half tucked his loose shirt into them. Enough with clothing. Too tired. He had to find someone to blame.

He pulled open the ornately carved double doors rather dramatically, before making his way to the stairs. He was a sorcerer. He could be as dramatic as he bloody well pleased, especially with it being so ridiculously early.

He probably shouldn't have stayed up so late with that potion-

He downed the wide, stone staircase in a trot, twisting the ring on his finger. All the curtains were open. Of course they were. All the early morning sunlight was streaming in, making him blink blearily. Some of the windows were even open- the blasted birds were tweeting sweetly. Oh gods, too much morning all too soon.

He wound his way through several corridors, taking the walk to wake him up, as he poked his head into the vast library.

His library had once been chaos that he would have had to sort through. Now it was all neat, with that favored seat by the fireplace and it held nothing he was looking for. He searched for a moment anyways, because it was a large library, twisting his gold loop even more nervously now, but nothing. The curtains were still drawn in this room. Not a good sign.

He cleared his sleepy mind, trying to think…

What was going on, he wondered, not in the library at this hour?

Before he grinned languidly.

He remembered now _exactly_ where she was.

He appeared behind her in the kitchen, but paused, admiring the view.

His lovely, little Belle was still just as beautiful, wearing blue, her sleeves rolled up and her brown curly hair twisted back so she could work freely on the enchanted stove top. He smiled as he watched her shoulders move, and the exposed portion of her neck was _ever _so inviting.

He didn't know how he'd ever lived without her, here at Dark Castle, or back in Storybrooke.

He stepped up closer, winding his arms around her slowly so that she froze. He kissed her neck, and whispered pleasantly, "Good morning."

"Good morning, love," and he heard the smile in her voice as she leaned her head back against his shoulder to kiss his jaw. "You're up early."

"I wonder who's to blame for that," he growled, before nipping at her skin. She'd left him alone in the bed. It always woke him up, the cold always reaching him faster than was decent. He'd only rarely been able to sleep in, because her sleeping patterns on rising with the sun were so deplorably consistent. She'd always been fond of mornings.

She shivered agreeably. "Don't you think it's a little early?" she asked.

"Uhmm," he mumbled against her shoulder, "Better to make _something_ good out of it."

She shook her head was the smallest laugh, before pushing forward, "I have food to cook."

He pulled her back roughly against him. "Who said you could go anywhere?"

She tossed her hair in his face, making him wrinkle his nose. "Careful," she cautioned him with a smile on her lips, looking down at herself.

His own hand traveled affectionately across her swollen belly. Five and a half months pregnant. He smiled softly as her hand found his, and pulled it across, holding it still. There was the smallest movement- at first he suspected the wee thing was giving his poor mother trouble, but then the same small movement.

"Hiccups," she giggled. He grinned broadly, feeling the movement again.

He kissed her shoulder again, continuing to feel the movement even as she started frying again. She placed several fresh strips of meat on the frying pan, moving the others off onto a plate. He made to snitch a piece- and his hand was slapped by the spatula.

"Not yet," she scolded.

"You have enough to feed an army," he grumbled, annoyed.

She snorted delicately, "We're going to need it."

"Papa!" the small cry came from the kitchen door. Both he and Belle turned in unison to see a little girl pattering in "Papa, Pearce is playing on the Spinning Wheel again!"

"Good morning to you too, dear one," he smiled at the little blonde, kneeling as she skipped towards him. How she was blonde both he and Belle were still trying to figure out. Belle thought it was the golden potion he'd given her when she'd fallen terribly ill during her pregnancy. He insisted she'd run off with an Umberto character- "You always were so fond of that name," he teased. She would huff at him, angry that he would even pretend she would run off with anyone, especially someone named Umberto.

That illness had been the most terrifying moment of his life, next to the time when he'd watched her get shot. He'd gone to far off places, even daring swordfights, looking for a magic spells, any cure that would work and he'd brought back the most likely, creating a one of a kind golden concoction for her to drink. It had worked, but the result was a blonde, bright eyed child.

Little Persephone bounded into her father's open arms, her rosy cheeks her bright blue eyes a mirror image of her mother's. She was the only one that had gotten her mother's eyes. So far, at least.

"Good morning, Papa!" she chimed.

"Good morning, Sephie," he replied with a smile, hoisting her little three year old self up in his arms. "Now what was this about Pearce?"

"He's gonna prick his finger!" Persephone said, waving her arms about, her little round face pouting in concern. "We have to save him Papa!"

"Then off we go!" He turned back to Belle at the door, who was smiling at him lovingly, and he paused, "Is Ember awake yet?"

"After how late you both were up? I doubt she'd be up until noon if she had it her way," Belle said with that familiar twist of her mouth, "Sadly she can't. Remind her that its Prince Henry's birthday today, and we have a picnic to attend."

"Leave me to wake up the little spitfire," he grumbled ruefully, tugging on one of Persephone's curls.

She pointed at him with her spatula accusingly, "You're the one who keeps her up so late teaching her spell work."

"Papa!" Sephie whined, rocking back and forth in his arms to get his attention.

Belle smiled at him conspiratorially.

"Right!" he touched Persephone on the button of her nose, before he grinned back at Belle. He turned out the door, and headed to find Pearce. And if he was trying to spin then there was only one place he could be.

They had kept the Spinning Wheel up in his work room, where he'd moved it after Belle had left the first time. He hadn't been able to bear being in that room alone, where they'd spent so many afternoons. Now it stayed there because he didn't want his children hurting themselves on it.

Of course it made them all the more curious.

"Papa, let's use magic!" Sephie proposed, bouncing chirpily in his arms again. Sephie really was the spitting image of her mother, only golden. Her little smile was something he could never refuse. Spoiled little dear one.

He paused at the foot of a staircase. "Magic you say?" he pretended to ponder it for a moment. Sephie, though, was not as interested in magic as much as the other two, and was fonder of it helping her. The little princess of the family. Belle said she would grow out of it, that it was something that she had been apt to herself before she'd grown up a bit. Rumpelstiltskin told her wasn't quite so sure that Belle had grown out of it. Belle had made a face in response. He smiled crookedly at his little dear one, "Well, I suppose."

"Yes!" she shrilled with glee, arms extended to the ceiling, and he could only smile at her as the disappeared from the staircase.

The pair of them appeared in his tower of a work room, Sephie still giggling and Rumpelstiltskin put Sephie down on the floor as he viewed the situation.

"I told you Papa!" she pointed.

"Sephie!" groaned a boy's voice, "I told you not to tell!"

Pearce was six years of age, and seven in eight months if you would listen to him tell you, with brown hair that curled at the ends like his mothers, and dark, thoughtful eyes. He slid off of the stool next to the Spinning Wheel, and touched the Wheel to keep it from going around, before clasping his hands in front of him.

Pearce was his most avid learner, his deepest thinker, and out of all the children, the one most willing to be helpful. As his deepest thinker, he was the most strategic. In a game of chess with his older sister he always won, even at five, when he'd been introduced to it. Ember didn't particularly like that.

Pearce enjoyed reading with his mother in the library, almost fonder of adventure stories than his own mother, romping around and acting them out. He babbled about, often performing one role or the next in his free time, plotting out how battles would happen and what would be the swiftest way to slay an ogre.

He often could be found helping, however. He helped his mother in the kitchen, and in the cleaning, fetching things for her when she asked. He used to cling to her skirts as a toddler, but now he was exploring more on his own. Belle had had a panic attack when they hadn't been able to find him one day, but he had been in the gardens weeding, because his mother had mentioned that she wasn't going to be able to work on that until later.

The lad was also fond of helping his father spin.

As a child he had found fistfuls of straw and brought them to him to spin into gold, eager to learn the art. However, it was a higher stage of alchemy, to spin straw into gold, and so he had taught his boy merely to spin, sitting him on his knee as he did so as they worked together. Pearce did want to learn to spin straw into gold. He didn't want to wait until he was seven to start learning magic, like Ember. But he had forced Ember to wait that long, so he had to be fair.

Pearce was far more interested in alchemy than spell casting. Rumpelstiltskin had a time of it keeping him away from alchemist books, where even at age six, Pearce had begun to read.

"Pearce," Rumpelstiltskin started in a disappointed tone.

"But Papa!" Pearce pleaded, "You don't like the mornings! I didn't think you would be up until-." Pearce stopped himself, looking up at his father with a guilty face.

Rumpelstiltskin hid a smile by thinning his lips. Pearce had fully expected not to be caught.

"We talked about this," Rumpelstiltskin chided, kneeling down in front of the lad, "If you want to spin, call for me. I'll be right there."

"But you're so busy all the time," Pearce complained imploringly.

"You're still not supposed to!" Sephie chimed in promptly.

Rumpelstiltskin turned to Sephie, "You go help Mama in the kitchen," he told her, scooting her away. No one wanted to be told by their little sister that they were doing wrong. As she skipped out of the door of his work room, he looked back to a guilty looking Pearce. "I'm never too busy for you."

"But you are! You're always going places," Pearce said, waving his hands in a very familiar way, motioning out of a window.

"I've got to work," and it was true. He had transactions to make, bartering and deal making. He was still a tradesman after all. Not to mention he was in the king's employ, and still a part of the War Council he was still supposed to be attending regularly. Royals and their committees. This is what happened when you picked a side. You got stuck with… responsibilities. "It's what happens when you're an adult."

"Can't I come with you?" Pearce pleaded, his dark, thoughtful eyes round.

This was a daily petition. If not an hourly one. Ever since Ember had gone with him once on a business trip, Pearce had wanted to go with him.

"Not until you're seven." It was a magical number for a reason after all.

He stamped his little foot. Why did his children have to be so darling when he was trying to be serious? He blamed Belle. "Ember can go and she never does! Can't we switch ages?"

Rumpelstiltskin chuckled, standing, "No, son. You're six for a reason." He patted his head.

"What reason?" Pearce wanted to know.

Rumpelstiltskin smiled, urging the lad forward out of the work shop down the steps. "You have to figure that out yourself."

"It's because there isn't one, is there?" Pearce harrumphed.

"No," Rumpelstiltskin said, and again, cursed his children for being so darling, "It's because you have to figure it out. You can't expect me to know everything."

Pearce looked up at him in confusion, "But isn't that why Their Majesties like you? Because you know everything?"

"Not exactly," Rumpelstiltskin tilted his head back and forth, thinking of the Royals. No, they didn't like that he knew everything at all. He grinned down at his boy. "Your mother is making us breakfast before we make ourselves presentable for the picnic today. Are you packed?"

"Yep!" Pearce said excitedly. Prince Henry's birthday was a big celebration, hosted every year, but this year was going to be extra special. He was turning eighteen after all. It made Rumpelstiltskin blink. 8 years. Had it really been 8 years since the end of the curse? Well, he supposed Ember was 7 years old… "Can we get a dragon egg when we're in the city?"

The comment was enough to jar him out of his reverie.

"No," Rumpelstiltskin replied automatically. A dragon egg? Where had that come from? Pearce spent far too much time reading with his mother.

"Why not? I'd take _really_ good care of it," Pearce promised. But he didn't know what he was talking about. A dragon egg turned into an infernal baby dragon, which then turned into a fully fledged, fire breathing and very detrimental problem.

He decided to turn it into a monetary issue, "When you can pay for every cow for that dragon to eat you can get a dragon egg."

"Great! I can get it when I turn seven!" hooted Pearce in triumph, pumping a fist into the air.

"What?" How by the gods had he come up with that answer?

Pearce looked up eagerly, his dark eyes shining, "After you teach me to spin straw into gold, then I can get a dragon!"

Obviously the monetary issue had been the wrong way to go. "Pearce, you can't have a dragon for a pet."

"Why not?" Pearce pouted.

No. No. This was an issue he was not going to lose on. "They can't be tamed."

"What does tamed mean?" Pearce inquired inquisitively. Pearce asked for definitions all the time.

Rumpelstiltskin answered fluidly, "It means it can't be controlled."

"That's why I'll be the first to control a dragon!" oh his children could dream as avidly as their mother. "Papa I bet I could ride one!" Rumpelstiltskin almost choked- his son, a top one of those scaly monstrosities- and he would probably try to do it too if given the opportunity- "Papa?" his boy's voice interrupted the nightmare.

"Let's discuss this when you're much _much_ older," he tried to speak through the obstruction in his throat. Children and their lack of self preservation in want of adventure. Just as bad as their mother. Speaking of dragons, "Why don't you go wake your sister up?"

Pearce shook his head immediately, backing up, "Mama told you to do it."

"How do you know?" Rumpelstiltskin grimaced.

"Because you're asking me to do it," Pearce pointed at himself, his dark eyes wide.

Rumpelstiltskin shook his head with a small smile, "Clever lad. Go help your Mama set the table," Rumpelstiltskin ushered his boy forward, who ran down the corridor and out of sight.

He sighed, and disappeared to his daughter's door. He knocked on the wood in between him and his daughter. Much good it would do if she really got angry. This was her third door since starting her magic lessons. Her mother had declared that the next time she blew up a door they weren't getting her a new one. Thus this door had remained for several months. He wasn't counting on her remembering that detail at such an early hour however.

He knocked again. "Ember."

There wasn't a reply. To be expected.

He knocked harder. "Ember Lynne."

There was a mumbled growl from the other side of the door.

He didn't have time for this. Impatiently he entered the room. It was dark, but he knew where to open the canopy that swathed the four poster bed.

"Ember Lynne, lass, you need to wake up," he spoke to her softly, but he knew she heard him because she harrumphed again.

"It's too early Papa!" she moaned, twisting away so her bedding swathed around her seven year old self. He had been so sure that this stubborn phase was supposed to happen when she was in her teens. The fact that it had come early, or worse, that this was just the beginning, boded ill for Dark Castle and all who lived there.

"It's Prince Henry's birthday," he reminded her, "We have to be at the celebrations." When she only grumbled again, he frowned. Enough with being gentle. He cast a spell that opened the curtains sharply.

"Papa!" she shouted, ducking her head under blankets.

"Ember?" he let his voice sound like a question, a smile slipping over his face.

"I'm not ready to be awake," she muttered from under her sheets, and he raised his eyebrows.

"You're not ready to be awake, hmm?"

He twisted his fingers in the air. He heard her gasp as an invisible magic hand grabbed one of her ankles-.

And flung her upside down into the air.

"PAPA!" she yelled as she dangled upside down, her toes tickling the top of her canopy bed. Ember's thick wild tangle of crimped auburn curls tumbled to the bed as her pointed little nose crinkled. Her large, almond shaped tawny eyes sparked dangerously shrieking defiance. "Papa put me down!"

Thankfully she only had a seven year old's magical capability. And that was dangerous enough. He twisted his mouth into a smile as her eyes met his, "Ready to be awake yet?"

She folded her arms up angrily, frowning in defeat, "Fine."

"Good." And he dropped the spell. She yelped as she fell to a heap onto her bed.

She sat herself up, flipping her mass of curls behind her head, holding her head up high, "When I'm a powerful sorceress I'm going to hang _you_ by _your_ ankles!" she pointed at him, her little bow of a mouth tight.

Ember was normally a clever, levelheaded girl. She was just as fond of mornings as her father was. She liked to wake at her own leisure, and normally they let her. But the occasion warranted the punishment, as it were.

"Oh, I believe it, lass, I believe it," he smiled, and offered her a hand off of her bed, "Do you want to make the bed, or shall I?"

"I can do it!" she sounded more cheerful, and he watched her as she drew a ball of magic from her very small pocket, and cast. The sheets straightened themselves out, and then the blanket unfurled itself across the bed, pillows puffing themselves up before the lot of them toppled on top of one another.

He smiled at her, but she harrumphed.

"What is it?" he asked, rubbing one her small shoulders.

"There's still a wrinkle," she pointed at it, glowering at the offender.

He fixed it with a twirl of his fingers. "Ever the little perfectionist," he bent and kissed her fluffy hair.

"I'll get it right one of these days!" she proclaimed, with a smile.

He nodded in agreement, guiding her out of the door of her bedroom, closing it magically behind them. It had survived another day. "You're much better than you were even two months ago."

"I'll get better even still!" she told him determinedly. Ember was the most willful, which was saying something, though she was responsible. She enjoyed learning, but only if it interested her. She had decided that from now on she was staying up late with her father and learning how to cast spells properly, and watched as he did magic past her ability.

Her mother had not liked that idea at all, saying that she needed her sleep so she could grow. Ember had appeared at her father's side every night anyways. Finally, after the fifth time of putting her to bed one night, she had come to him in tears. Ember didn't cry very often, unlike her sister, who was constantly worrying about monsters in her bedroom at night. He had immediately been concerned, knelt down next to her.

"_What is it, lass?" he asked, truly troubled, pulling the blanket she had with her more tightly around her frame. He sent out a search for other magical entities in the estate, searched to see if one of his protective wards had been broken. _

_Tears overflowed, "I just want to learn, Papa, it's all I want. I'll be good! I'll be the best!"_

_He felt his heart break in his chest. "Yes, you will, but you need to go to sleep now," he rubbed her shoulders soothingly. _

"_No, Papa! I want to learn now!" she stepped away, her free hand a fist at her side, her other hand clutching the blanket, her little pointed face screwed up. _

"_Ember-," he sighed. _

"_I won't stop, Papa. I'm as determined as Mama, and you said so, remember?" and her tawny eyes were alive with that determined steel that was her mother's, but the sly bartering that was all his own. He was as much to blame for this predicament as Belle was, and it was all mixed in this beautiful daughter of his. _

He had given in then. He just hadn't told Belle until about a month ago. And Belle was still blaming him. He got caught between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

He smiled as he sighed, "That you will, lass, that you will."

But she never heard his words. She had already skipped ahead of him, out of sight, waking him from his reminiscences. He had to be on the alert now. His girl wasn't called "little spitfire" throughout the kingdom for nothing.

He felt the tug of magic around the bend of a corridor, and smiled as he continued to pace forward.

"Gotcha!" she shouted, and a blast of magical fire spurted out from her little palms.

He spun cleanly away, appearing right behind her, "Nice try, spitfire." She never really was one for subtly. Pearce had picked up that trait more than she had.

"I'll catch you off guard one of these days," she vowed, her small hands fisting and her almond shaped eyes sparking, though she wasn't angry. She enjoyed the challenge of trying to best her father, "I know I will!"

He smiled wearily, "That's what I'm worried about."

She grinned in appreciation, her tawny eyes dancing dangerously, before skipping on ahead of him. He decided it'd be more beneficial to his health if he appeared straight to the dining room.

They never used the entire dining table when they ate as a family. They all sat clustered at one end, and enjoyed it. He paused in the doorway to the dining hall, which once used to be what Belle called "His Trophy Room."

Belle was setting the last of breakfast down, and his children were all gathered around the table. Belle looked up to smile happily at him, warm and framed by sunlight. It made him catch his breath. Her smile widened- she knew what affect she had on him. He raised his eyebrows to her, a smile playing on his own lips, and stepped forward to join them.

~: Belle :~

Meal times at Dark Castle were quite the spectacle. And after this particular spectacle of Sephie managing to comb oatmeal through her hair, crying that her fork was a "dinglehopper" she had run them all into three separate bathrooms, to hurry and get ready for the journey. She gave Sephie to Rumpelstiltskin, knowing he would have her sparkling clean in a trice. She left Ember to her own devices until she called for help with her hair.

How she and Rumpelstiltskin had managed to have three children with such unmanageable hair was a mystery to her. Ember's hair was self explanatory- Belle's thickness, combined with the crimped curls that made up Rumpelstiltskin's hair, it was bound to be a nightmare. Persephone's hair was cute if she left it alone, but whenever Belle tried to tie it up, or weave a ribbon threw it, the curls ended up in snarls. They normally left Sephie's hair alone due to that, letting it fall in her three year old face in darling golden ringlets. Pearce's hair was almost the worst of all three. Pearce's hair would not lay flat. No matter what they did to it. It stuck out at odd ends, a frazzled mess. Most of the time it was passable if they ran a comb through it, but normally it was not meant to be tamed, and cutting it? Only made it worse. Whenever they tried to cut it evenly, they inevitably missed a bit, and it made it look all the more wild.

Belle helped Pearce into the tub now. The beautiful thing about living in an enchanted castle in meant that there never was any lack of hot water. It could always be charmed warm again.

Belle had gone to get some extra soap made special for hair use when she found a rather depressed looking Pearce.

"What is it Pearce?" she asked, concerned, kneeling next to the bath tub as he glowered at the bubbles in his bath.

"Why won't Papa train me too?" he pouted, and popped one of the bubbles viciously.

Belle sighed herself into smiling, "Because you're not seven yet."

"It's not fair," Pearce told her, looking at her with brown eyes that were so akin in color to his father's. "Ember is always going to be better than me because she's older."

"She's not better than you," Belle assured calmly, and began to soap his hair. "And you'll get to learn soon enough." Oh heaven, two magical children running through the house. The thought alone had her up in the middle of the night worrying, and it hadn't even happened yet. They were going to need to put up wards or something to keep total chaos from reigning. _Not that it already didn't,_ she thought with a small smile.

"Mama, I promise I'll be good! I won't use it to hurt Ember!"

"I know you won't. But no, not until you're seven," Belle reaffirmed, and gave him a bucket to douse his own head with water. He did so with the biggest pout on his face that it made Belle laugh to herself as he looked up at her with a sad lip and his hair plastered to his scalp. "It's ok, Pearce," she assured, standing to help him out of the tub, "You know you get to see the twins today."

"You think Con will be there?" Constantine was one Red's and Jiminy's first set of twins. Irene was the other one, and she liked to play with Alexandria, even though Alexandria was the oldest of the bunch.

She nodded soothingly, "I know Constantine will be there. It's Prince Henry's birthday, remember?"

"Does that mean Richard's going to be there too?" asked Pearce in a fussy tone.

Richard was Snow's and James' first son. Richard was Ember's age, and they ran around together making all sorts of trouble, and often Pearce got the worst of it. "Yes. And also it means that William is coming."

"I don't like Richard," huffed Pearce.

"I know," Belle sighed, scrubbing his arm with a wash cloth, "But with William there you won't even notice." William was Richard's younger brother.

"He likes to pick on me," Pearce moped, offering his other arm to be washed.

Belle stifled a chuckle, but it still reached her voice, as she offered her hand for Pearce to get out of the tub, "He does not."

"He does so!" Pearce declared, stepping out of the tub with Belle's help, "If I had magic-."

"We're not starting that again," she smiled, wrapping him up and rubbing him down fiercely with a towel until he started to laugh. When he was mostly dry, she wrapped the towel tightly around him, his head poking out with his hair sticking up in odd angles. They had to fix that fast before it dried that way. "Magic doesn't solve everything, you know." Like the fact that Pearce's hair could not be tamed.

"Is that why you don't practice magic as much as Papa?" Pearce asked as she found a comb, "Because you think it doesn't solve everything?"

"Maybe," Belle nodded as she knelt down again, "But also it's because I'm too busy trying to make your hair lie flat all the time," and smiled as Pearce giggled as she attacked his hair with new fervor. "What if we shaved you bald?" she teased when it proved impossible with his giggling.

"No! No!" he squealed, burying his wet self into her, his little arms around her waist.

"I'm not going to shave you bald," she told him, and then turned in surprise to see Rumpelstiltskin staring at her. The shiver that crept up her back as she looked at him was one that made her smile hesitantly. He always had that affect on her.

Sephie ran in, dressed in a beautifully bright lavender dress. "Mama look what Papa got me!" She did the cutest twirl that left Belle grinning.

"What's taking you so long?" he wanted to know with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at him, but still smiled.

"Papa what'd you get me?" Pearce asked excitedly.

"Your new outfit lad, is lying on your bed," he gestured out of the door. The boy ran for it, towel streaming behind him like a cape.

"I want to see, I want to see!" shouted Sephie, running after him.

"You're going to spoil them," Belle said, walking up to him as he watched his children run down the corridor.

"Going to?" he asked sarcastically, wrapping an arm around her, making her lean against him. She smiled at that. Yes, they already were spoiled. "Nothing but the best for our children," he told her, kissing her cheek, "They deserve it."

"Mama!" shouted Ember from down the hallway.

She shared a knowing look with him, before calling back, "Coming!"

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

Dressed in their finest, they lined up in the dining hall, Pearce holding the picnic basket for their mother and Sephie rocking back and forth on the spot.

"Alright," he told them in a serious tone. "You know the rules."

"We have to play nice with the royals," Ember huffed.

"Even Richard," Pearce grumbled.

"Especially Richard, even if he doesn't play nice with you," Belle inserted, "And you, missy, don't encourage him," she rounded on Ember, who wasn't the least bit fazed.

"I'm so excited! I get to show Richard some magic!" Ember bubbled.

"That's another thing," Rumpelstiltskin added, "No magic."

"But why?" Ember whined, as Pearce went, "Ha Ha!" Belle shushed Pearce immediately.

"Because," and at this he and Belle shared another knowing look, "We don't need any fireworks going off early."

"But Papa," complained Ember, her little face distraught.

"Not this time, Ember," he told her, locking eyes with her to convey how serious this was to him, "And I'm warning you now, if you use magic today, no magic lessons for a week."

She folded her arms up angrily, turning away from him. Belle sighed, looking to him again. It was going to be an adventure of a day, to say the least.

"Alright, everyone, you know how this goes," he stepped forward, and joined hands with Sephie, who joined hands with Pearce. Belle took the handle of the picnic basket, and Pearce grinned at her as he clasped the same handle even tighter. Rumpelstiltskin looked to Ember, who was still fuming with her arms folded so tightly he wondered if they could ever come apart and work the same again. Belle extended her hand to Ember.

"Ember, dear," Belle spoke soothingly.

She glowered first at her mother, and then at him, but when she glanced back at her mother's patient face, she looked ashamedly at the floor, before uncoiling her arms and giving her hand to her mother. She was more grudging about giving her hand to her father, but did so, her grip tight. He smiled at Belle, and her amazing ability to calm Ember even in her angriest of storms, before speaking up.

"Everybody on the count of three."

The family counted together.

"1," and Pearce glance excitedly at him.

"2!" Sephie shrilled over them all, and Rumpelstiltskin heard Ember mumble the number under her breathe.

He looked up to Belle at the last second, and watched her smile elatedly through, "3."

~: Belle :~

They appeared in the Great Hall of Charming Castle, Sephie and Pearce still laughing, and startling nearly everyone in the area. And the chaos dispersed into groups.

She felt Ember pull away from them roughly, and run right over into Richard, nearly bowling him over entirely.

Richard of the Enchanted Forest Kingdom was eight, with his mother's black as night hair and his father's charming blue eyes, not to mention his father's smirk of a smile. "Hi, Em!"

"Richy- let's go!" she told him, forcing him to put her down.

And the pair disappeared from sight.

Belle heard Parker, Emma's boy who was six, call after them, "Hey guys, wait up!"

Sephie had found the Cricket family's triplets, and Annette, Snow's youngest, all her age, and was already leading them in some sort of parade-

Pearce looked up at her, asking with his eyes instead of his words. She took the basket from him, and nodded, before he went and hunted down Constantine and William.

"Oh Gods," Rumpelstiltskin mumbled as their children ran pel mel from them, into the crowds of nobles, and dwarves and fairies and all sorts of other mythical beings.

Belle shook her head, "And we wonder why they only invite us for holidays and special events."

"I don't wonder," Rumpelstiltskin said, and they shared a knowing look before laughing quietly together.

"Belle! Rumpelstiltskin!" It was Henry, clad in the family colors, grinning broadly, and shook Rumpelstiltskin's hand, clapping him on the back, "Glad you could make it."

"Your Highness," Rumpelstiltskin nodded respectfully, and Belle couldn't help but hide a smile as he pulled his hand away with flutter of his fingers (hand shaking was not Rumpelstiltskin's favorite) and Henry moved to hug Belle warmly.

"Oh, Henry, it's so good to see you," Belle smiled as he released her, "You're looking well."

And he was. He'd grown, lean, not quite fully muscled yet, but his face was longer, more like his grandfather's than Snow's and Emma's, but his eyes were still bright. This world was suiting him well. It had been from the moment he'd stepped into it.

"Thank you. You are - too," he looked awkwardly at her belly. Belle smiled kindly.

"So you're eighteen," Rumpelstiltskin cut in, "Any plans of marriage yet?"

"Not yet. They're coming though," he smiled secretly.

It was no court secret that Henry was fond of Grace, the Hatter Jefferson's daughter. He glanced behind him to look at her warmly.

"Well hurry up, man," Rumpelstiltskin encouraged with false bravado, "You're only young once." He shared a sideways glance with Belle.

"I know," Henry ducked his head, and he was ten again, bashful, and darling.

"Belle!" Snow White waltzed into the picture, followed by her loyal husband. Henry bowed out of the conversation, moving to discuss with other people, "Rumple," she nodded at him respectfully, before turning back to Belle, who threw her husband a sympathetic grin, "Look at you coming right along. This is four, right?"

"Yes," Belle nodded as Snow felt her swollen stomach. Rumpelstiltskin's hand was at her back immediately. He was overly protective, as usual, but especially when she was pregnant.

"And everything's – going ok, this time?" Snow looked up with concern into Belle's mind.

_Very subtle_, Rumpelstiltskin said irately in mind link. They were always connected this way, but he kept the bond stronger during these sorts of functions.

_Well, after the panic over Sephie, and… losing our last_, Belle bent her head in sadness, and she felt Rumpelstiltskin's frustration spike at Snow even more. There was even heart ache in happily ever afters. "Yes, everything's going smoothly," Belle assured.

"You'll tell us if you need anything," James assured confidently.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Rumpelstiltskin's voice sounded sticky sweet. She knew that tone as one to beware, even if others didn't pick up on it. That tone meant he was annoyed and wanted them to go kindly jump off a bridge and leave him, or in this case, them, alone. He was still so violent after all these years. It made her giggle.

"Well, we have other guests to attend to," Snow excused herself, and her husband bowed.

"We will see you at the picnic," nodded Belle in a half curtsey, shifting the basket in her arms. Rumpelstiltskin picked it off of her smoothly, and smiled politely as they left.

"Running?" she asked as he began to move them forward, one hand still on her back.

"Running," he nodded, and they smiled together as they exited the Great Hall, people watching them as they went, walking hastily away. Belle grinned. Her husband hated these parties.

~: Ember :~

"Just show me one thing," Richy said encouragingly.

"No, Papa will know," Ember countered.

They were sitting together outside on the grounds, near where the picnic was being held, near the wall, beneath the blossoming trees and out of sight. It was one, at least that's what the great bell had tolled a few minutes ago, and Richy was being as persuasive as ever.

Richy and Ember had been best friends as long as they could remember. They did everything together when they were together, which often meant pranking Alexandria or Pearce. Alexandria was more fun to prank, because she got more upset, but because she was almost a year older than Richard it was harder. Pearce was easy to tease, but more likely to tattle. It was constantly a problem. And then they had to avoid Parker.

Parker was Richard's nephew, which was weird, because Richy was only two years older, but he was always wanting to hang out with Ember and Richy. It was really annoying sometimes. But that was ok. Richy always found a new place to hide in this large castle.

"No he won't," Richy said, "Not if it's a really small thing."

"Yes he will," Ember disagreed, "He knows everything."

"There's no way," Richy shook his head.

"Why do you think he's your dad's best sorcerer huh?" Ember countered, pursing her lips.

"He can't know everything," Richy rolled his eyes. "Watch." He took Ember's face in her hands, and kissed her square on the mouth. Ember stared at his closed eyes before he let her go. She pushed him away, wiped his spit from her face. He was smirking.

"What was that?" she shrieked.

"See?" he said, tilting his head, and laying back on the grass. "If he knew everything he would be angry. And he's not even here."

She stood up, "That was weird!" she fumed, her hands fists.

"I was just proving a point," he shrugged. "Sit down."

"No," she said resolutely.

"Look I promise I won't kiss you again. Just sit," he told her. And- she sat. "See? Now show me a little magic."

"You didn't prove anything," Ember grumbled.

"Sure did!" Richy disagreed.

"I'm tired of this game. Let's do something else," she sighed, and then grinned wickedly, looking at him excitedly, "Let's go ruin Alexandria's tea party."

He perked up at that, "Only if you'll show me magic later."

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. It's a deal."

He grinned just as wickedly, "Deal."

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

He felt a twinge – what had just happened?

"What's wrong?" Belle asked, looking at him in concern. He and Belle were still on the grass on a blanket, surrounded by other- people. He had tried to find a spot on the outskirts of the grounds, where they wouldn't be bothered too often.

That had not gone according to plan.

Snow and Charming had set up camp near them, followed by Ella and Thomas, and then the whole bloody court was circled around them and they had absolutely no where to run without making it obvious that they were running.

So when Belle asked what was wrong, she already knew he was suffering already from his loathing of courtiers simpering to one another across from him, and that was not what had alerted him to something.

As a father he kept tabs on his children, especially after previous incidents- he knew, even though Sephie was out of sight that she was off with the Cricket triplets and Annette, playing in a sand lot. He knew Pearce, Con and William had snuck off the grounds back into the castle into the library, where they discussed battles of old and invented new. And he knew Ember and Richard were sitting in the trees next to the wall only fifty yards away. A minute ago they had been making fun of courtiers, teasing about how to lift tea cups and wondering how to attack little Alexandria and her little band of followers. He had left them alone just for a moment, had been distracted by Thomas asking him if business was good.

But something had just happened. She hadn't used magic- but magic had been at work.

"Is it-?"

"No," he shook his head.

His Belle was always worried about monsters finding their children.

Rumpelstiltskin had made a lot of enemies, plenty of them sitting with them on the lawn, but most of them were smart enough not to retaliate. Especially to retaliate and threaten his children, or his wife. At least, if they valued their souls.

No, this was different.

"Belle," Emma came to them, balancing her youngest of her two on her hip, "Could you watch Matthew for a bit?"

"Of course," Belle smiled, and took little Matthew from her.

"And what are you going to go do?" Rumpelstiltskin asked with an annoyed tilt of his head. People dumped their kids on his wife all the time, especially Emma. He had little patience for it.

"They're starting up a game of-," she started out guiltily, I was going to go play, and since Belle is pregnant, and she needs to take it easy-."

"It's not a problem, Emma," smiled Belle serenely. _You're going to get us into trouble_, _again, Rumpelstiltskin_, she added in his mind.

"I don't care," he mumbled out loud as Emma walked away without so much as a thank you. Emma still wore pants like a man, a fashion that had been taken on by the more aggressive women of court. Belle still wore breeches or hose on occasion, but she looked sexy when she did so, not angry or butch, he thought cruelly. Then again, Emma _had_ grown up in a different world, and – nope, he stopped himself. No excuse. Even if she had shattered the curse, it didn't mean that she had a right to fling her children on other people and "go play."

She had taken to this world better than he had thought, and motherhood, but she still had the tendency to ride around as the White Knight, instead of be a mother. Which was why Parker was so attention needy, at least, in Rumpelstiltskin's thoughts.

"I really don't mind," Belle told him, "And Matthew is darling," she picked the child up more securely, plopping him on her lap, "Aren't you?" How did she manage to be so kind? He would never figure it out. Ever. As long as he lived.

While Parker looked like Emma, golden curls, Matthew looked like August, dark hair and dimples. August and Emma had married here as well, and Emma had even worn a dress for the occasion. It had been somewhat of a miracle.

"When is this extravaganza over again?" Rumpelstiltskin mumbled into her ear. "I'm a recluse for a reason."

She giggled, "Not until tonight, love. You know that. He knew that, huh?" she reverted to her baby tone to make Matthew giggle.

He groaned, but was cut short by her elbow in his gut. She feigned innocence, and he shook his head at her with a small smile of incredulity.

~: Pearce :~

He was his father, and Con was Jiminy Cricket- they were fighting the worst of enemies- the Ogres. Rumpelstiltskin cast a spell as William, who was King James, slashed with a sword at the largest Ogre of them all, the King Ogre.

But there were too many. Jiminy already had a hurt arm. They needed to regroup.

Con was saying, pushing up his spectacles, "And then they ran-."

"Nuh uh! My papa would't run!" shouted William as both Pearce and Con stopped dead way through their game. He had shattered the illusion yet again. The King Ogre rocked on its pedestal, a globe of that other world, Earth, instead of an Ogre now.

"He would so. You would too! This is the Ogre Wars!" Con tried to reason with him, though he was just as mad.

"I would not run!" William stomped his foot.

"William," Pearce grumbled. "You're ruining it!"

"I am not!" William disagreed.

"Are so!" Pearce countered.

"Stop it. We can just say something else happened, ok?" Con tried to make peace with the both of them.

"Like what?" William asked hopefully.

Ugh. He was going to be the best again. He always had to be the best. He had to have the coolest armor and the coolest weapon. He even had to pretend that when Pearce cast a really cool spell that he could cast it too. He was ruining all the fun today. "Like you die because you stayed behind," snapped Pearce, fed up.

"I would not die!" William teared up.

"Would so!" Pearce argued.

"I'm telling my mom!" William shouted, running out of the great library.

Con and Pearce shrugged at each other, before Pearce continued, "The mighty James was slain in battle! We have to go for back up!"

"Agreed!" Con- now Jiminy said, and they ran for it together, grinning.

"And then we appeared back at the castle-."

~: Ember :~

It was late in the afternoon when the parents started to pick up their stuff.

They were going to have to be sneaky about this, and that meant no parents. Richard had wanted to start Alexandria's picnic blanket on fire, but that would have been a little too dangerous. Ember didn't want anyone to actually get hurt, especially Irene. Even though Irene followed Alexandria around, she was still nice most of the time, even if Alexandria wasn't.

Alexandria had curly blonde hair and an annoying expression. And she used to beat up Richard all the time. That had bother Ember to no end. Now she pretended to be too dainty to beat him up, but Ember still remembered the time she'd gotten a black eye after Alexandria had punched her for trying to hurt her after she had busted Richard's lip.

Now, she played victim. And Ember didn't mind one bit that she was the villain now. Her Papa had been a villain for a while, hadn't he?

She strolled up to Alexandria and Irene, who were sitting in a circle on a blanket with a few other courtier girls, hands behind her back, "Hi, Alex."

"It's Alexandria," corrected Alexandria, head held high as she sipped her fake tea.

She used to go by Alex. But now she was too dainty.

"Hi Ember," smiled Irene. Irene was delicate, with pretty sparkling eyes and long dark hair like her mom. Her hello almost made her want to go back on the prank.

"Hi Irene," Ember mumbled guiltily.

Someone stepped up behind Ember. "And hello, little princesses."

The voice made Ember freeze immediately.

"Hello, Sir Rumpelstiltskin," Alexandria said simpering.

She looked up to her papa to see him cringe. "If you'll - excuse us for a moment," and he scooped Ember up and carted her off before Ember could even protest.

"Papa put me down!" she kicked furiously, before he set her in front of her mother, who was holding Lady Emma's baby, Matthew. Mama was looking at her sternly, and Ember felt herself staring at her toes instead of Mama's eyes.

"What did we say about playing nice with the other royals?" Mama asked.

"But Mama-!"

"No buts," Mama stopped her, kneeling down, "Dear one, you know we want everyone to be safe. And that chocolate you were about to give them would make them sick."

"They'd just go to the bathroom a lot," Ember grumbled.

"It's a strong medicine meant for old people. You know how dangerous it would be to little bodies?"

Ember shook her head ashamedly.

Mama touched her cheek, "They could be sick for days."

"That's not what Richy said," Ember mumbled.

"That boy," her father growled.

"You shouldn't believe everything Richy says," Mama said with a disapproving tone, and Ember nodded sadly, "Now, do you promise to play nice?"

"I promise," Ember said whole heartedly, still feeling guilty.

"Good. Now hurry up. I think Richard's looking for you," Mama sounded a little more cheerful. Ember felt better. She turned to go.

Papa stopped her, one of his hands outstretched, his eyes expectant.

She sighed, and took the chocolate she'd been hiding behind her back and handed it to him quickly, before lifting her skirts and running to Richy's side. She was going to have to tell him that their plan was foiled.

~: Belle :~

"Disaster one averted," she sighed, watching Ember run to Richard's side.

"Here comes disaster two," Rumpelstiltskin said in the same tone as William ran right into Snow White.

"What happened?" Belle asked, concerned, switching Matthew over to her other hip.

"The tyke was trying to be the _best_ of them all," Rumpelstiltskin waved his arms, and Belle shook her head with a smile.

"Boys will be boys," she said resignedly as the wailing was heard throughout the entire grounds.

Rumpelstiltskin took Matthew from her, knowing even before she did that the kid was getting too heavy for her.

"Thanks," she told him, her back aching.

"You're welcome," he replied, glowering at the boy.

~: Rumpelstiltskin :~

They had suffered through dinner, and now they were supposed to suffer through dancing? No one had told them this was a ball! He had been told this was a picnic and to expect fireworks at the end of the evening. That was all. This was going to turn into one of those midnight messes.

He and Belle had tried to excuse themselves, saying that they needed to get home, with three wild children to put to bed, but Snow White had insisted, saying that the children had had a room arranged for them, and that a caretaker was already there to help them into some bed clothes. They could stay the night if they wanted to.

To that last bit Belle and Rumpelstiltskin had refused, assuring them though that they would stay into the fireworks were over after a lot of insisting.

"Royalty will be the death of me," Rumpelstiltskin mumbled in her ear. They had been given a room to change in, and it was a miracle that Rumpelstiltskin was still a sorcerer, else they would have had nothing to change into.

"No, that will be your children," Belle sighed, sitting on a couch, "If they don't kill me first." She was talking about how Ember had managed to help Richard prank Alexandria in the end, making her trip down a few stairs by pulling a rug out from under her, which had ended in a scraped knee or two, and a lot of tears. Sephie had led her troop of wolf cubs and Annette to the tallest tower where they had been in peril of falling off, and Pearce hadn't let William play with them again after he had left, insisting that William had already died in the game.

"Dearest," he smiled, kissing her cheek softly as he sat next to her. She was distraught, one hand on her forehead. "Dearest, they're children. This happens. Remember at the Winter Celebration?"

That set her to smiling. Alexandria had managed to set the tree on fire. They had had to evacuate the castle as Rumpelstiltskin had put it out magically. Ella had been horrified.

"And then the Autumn Harvest? The triplets got into the kitchens."

"They ate a bit of everything."

"Wolf cubs tend to eat a lot," he nodded with a hopeful lilt in his tone, "So see? It's alright."

"I know," Belle shook her head, smiling sadly, folding her hands in her lap, "I just wish it hadn't been all three of ours today."

"They're children, Belle," he reassured again, "And honestly, if Ella gives me another dirty look after I say anything, I might just slip a bit of Ember's chocolate to her."

Belle gasped, turning right around with an indignant smile, "You'd better give me that right now!"

"No, no no. I've got plans for it," he grinned wickedly.

She shut her mouth and tried not to smile, but he caught her face then, and kissed her until she kissed back.

Someone burst through the door, "Are you two- oh."

It was Red. Rumpelstiltskin pulled away in frustration.

"Already working on number five, eh?" she grinned wolfishly.

Rumpelstiltskin wondered what the going rate on the black market was for werewolf pelts. He knew their teeth were worth a fortune. Not that he really needed a fortune, but ground up werewolf teeth were a part of a few alchemy potions he'd never tried. What a splendid opportunity.

"What is it, Red?" Belle asked politely.

"Oh, they're just starting the music, that's all. I thought you would want to know. It is Rumpelstiltskin's absolute favorite dance, after all," she winked, before closing the door, with a "have fun!"

The courtiers teased Rumpelstiltskin's dancing prowess. One night, when he had been rather drunk (it wasn't his fault, mind, it had been the fact that August and Emma had been experiencing some marriage difficulties, and Belle had bullied him into helping out August, which had led to a lot of drinking) and he had swept Belle up in his arms and had danced the most scandalous tango with her that the court had ever, or probably would ever see again.

Ever since he'd never heard the end of his ability to tango, and blamed Belle for being entirely too attractive to resist. She had her own problems to deal with after that night. Statements like, no wonder they had so many children, and who knew the old sorcerer was so lithe? She was still blushing now.

"I suppose if we stay up here any longer we're going to get the worst of it," Belle sighed, standing, and made for their clothing.

He didn't care if they got the worst of it, he decided as she pulled her dress over her head in front of a long gilded mirror. "And don't even think about it," she scolded him as he tried to sneak up behind her. She had seen him in the mirror.

"Why ever not?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, and kissed her shoulder.

"I am not going to have someone walk in on us-."

"We can lock the door," he offered, breathing warmly on her smooth skin.

"That makes it worse," she was doing her very best to resist him, but was watching him through the mirror as his hands snaked around her. "W-we have to go down. I know you don't want to-."

"But this sounds so much more pleasant," he sighed, before kissing her neck.

She turned right around, her eyes steely and determined and he knew he was not winning this one. "No- we have to… but we can leave early."

"It sounds like a deal to me," he grinned easily, and kissed her smoothly.

"You don't play fair, you know that?" she breathed as she broke away.

"I know."

~: Ember :~

She couldn't sleep in this bed. It was weird. Sephie and Pearce had fallen asleep in their beds next to her, and so had the care taker, but she couldn't sleep.

She liked her canopy bed, and everything was too bright, and she didn't like to sleep until late anyways. The music from downstairs was playing prettily, and she focused on that. Downstairs Mama and Papa were dancing. She bet Mama would look really pretty in her dress, and that Papa would be wearing that smile he always did when he danced with Mama.

Her hands were folded behind her head, like Richy did a lot, and her foot tapped the air to the music.

And speaking of Richy-

Someone was opening her door.

Ember sat bolt upright, staring as Richy's face popped in the crevice between the door and the doorframe.

He nodded for her to come outside invitingly.

She grinned, and followed without hesitation, creeping by the care taker, and rushing by him so that he could close the door softly in her wake. They giggled at their triumph.

"They're gonna start the fireworks soon. Wanna go see?" he asked, offering her his hand.

"Yeah!" she replied instantly, and they ran down the corridor together.

~: Henry :~

He swallowed nervously as he led Grace outside to the grounds, away from the party. He rolled his eyes at his grandfather, who gave him the "thumbs up" as they walked away from the music and into the night.

He had timed this perfectly, knew exactly what he was going to do, but he hadn't expected her to look so beautiful. For some reason that made all of this harder, instead of easier. He felt like her looking beautiful should make it easier.

He stopped at precisely the right spot, and could not think of a single thing to say. Normally he wasn't this tongue tied around her. Normally he was just himself, but all of this- and he didn't know what to do. He looked at her in utter amazement, and wondered how on earth and in the wilds of the enchanted forest would she say yes.

She looked up at him then, dark eyes dancing in the moonlight, "You wanted to talk to me?"

"I did," he said, and cursed himself for sounding like he was choking. But he was choking. She was so beautiful, and he couldn't remember the words he had planned, and oh by both worlds he was going to screw this up royally. "I just- I wanted-."

"Henry! Henry!"

It was Parker- his brother to his rescue. Henry bent as Parker ran to him.

He was in tears, "Henry!" he cried, "No one will play with me!"

"You should be in bed," Henry reminded him, kneeling as his brother wrapped his arms around him.

"Yeah, but Ember and Richard are still up," Parker complained.

"They are, are they?" Henry glanced up at Grace, who was smiling behind a hand. "Sounds like trouble to me. But you listen," he made his voice serious, "You go back inside, and get in bed-."

"But!" Parker started to protest.

"And tomorrow-," Henry stopped him, "Tomorrow we'll have a riding lesson, ok?"

Parker's eyes lit up as he beamed, "Really?"

"Yes, but only if you go get in bed now," Henry told him, letting him go.

Parker was running before he even responded, his little six year old feet pattering in the grass, "Ok! Goodnight, Henry! Goodnight Lady Grace!"

That's right, she was a lady, and he was keeping her waiting.

And since was already kneeling.

~: Belle :~

She smiled as Rumpelstiltskin spun her around. It was a good thing he was the best dancer in the entire land, because otherwise she would be sick of it already. But he kept them dancing to keep from having Belle be asked by other men, and to keep from having to talk to many people. Devious as usual.

"The fireworks will be starting soon, ladies and gentleman!" someone announced. "If you would like to move out to the balcony to see them?"

"No thank you," Rumpelstiltskin muttered, "We'll watch it from a tower, thank you very much."

"Oh, please and thank you," Belle nodded appreciatively, and he whisked them away.

He spun her to a stop and Belle giggled as he kissed her quickly.

"We're going to miss Henry's engagement announcement," Belle told him as she headed to the edge of the tower.

"We'll hear about it later, I'm sure," he told her, wrapping his arm around her and the first of the fireworks went off."

~: Ember :~

She and Richy leaned out of the window they'd pried open, watching and gasping as firework after firework went off.

"Can I come back with you and your family?" Richy asked.

Ember frowned, "Why? Don't you like it here?"

"Yeah but it's so boring," groaned Richy, leaning back, "William and Parker cry all the time, and Henry's too cool to hang out with me anymore learning to be a knight and all. I just get really bored."

"I don't think my papa would like it very much," Ember told him.

"I don't like your papa either," Richy retorted.

"That's not what I said," Ember huffed.

"I know," Richy shrugged, "But he's always gone anyways, right?"

"He is," Ember thought, and then was excited. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all! "Let's ask!"

"Excellent!" Richy grinned conspiratorially with her as the finale of the firework show started. "Then we'll have fun, all the time."

"Let's promise to always have fun," she proposed. She offered him her pinky finger.

He clasped it with his, and the sky lit up with different colors behind them. "Promise?"

"Promise," she smiled confidently.

~: Belle :~

Separating Ember and Richard this time had been more of a nightmare than it was most of the time. They had been awake, as she had predicted, and very much set on Richard accompanying them home.

They had gathered a resolutely asleep Sephie, and a yawning Pearce, and prying Ember from Richard's arms (which Rumpelstiltskin had done a little too viciously) they had finally arrived home. Only to realize they'd left their children's new clothing at Charming castle.

"We'll get it later," he sighed as he shut the door behind him. He'd just put Ember to bed.

"I know," she smiled quietly as she stared out the window. She was so exhausted, but as he came up from behind, she sighed into his arms. It was always a comfort, to know he was there to support her, especially, like now, after she'd had such a long day while trying to hold it altogether, that he would be just as exhausted with her, and yet still hold her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him, concerned. He had just been subjected to a day of royalty, and had been forced to swallow everything without hesitation.

"A little tired," he confessed, and then kissed her neck. "But not too tired."

She smiled, leaning back to kiss his jaw. "Oh good," she smiled.

"How are you feeling?" he asked her.

"I'm," and she paused to think, "I'm happy."

He snorted, "You're always happy."

"Not always," she disagreed, "But most of the time. It is our happily ever after after all," she wrinkled her nose at him.

"That it is, dearest," he smiled softly, but his eyes danced mischievously. He spun her around to kiss her full on the mouth, breaking away all too soon to finish, "That it is."

The End


End file.
